


The Second Trial: A Fireteam ALPHA-ETA Story

by sicsemperxelak



Category: Destiny (Video Game), Destiny - Fandom, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6034315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicsemperxelak/pseuds/sicsemperxelak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fireteam Alpha-Eta has survived the Vault of Glass and foiled a Vex attempt to turn one of their own against them. But even after what might have been the most harrowing adventure any group of Guardians has ever experienced, the still newly-minted Fireteam led by the Speaker's own heir is untried and unfocused. Head Archivist Ryan would rather spend all of his time in the Library, Gavin and Michael are more interested in reveling in their victory, and even the Fireteam's supposed leader, Geoff-6 - the Traveler's Chosen - seems more interested in avoiding his responsibilities than ever before.</p><p>Does this ragtag group of misfit Guardians have what it takes to come together again to hunt down the most legendary and powerful weapon known to the City?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tower, the Last City, Earth

**Author's Note:**

> A short AH Destiny AU fanfiction inspired by madkingray's universe, with heavy authorial license for certain details.

            “…and to top it all off, I’m not sure if he’ll ever be able to show his face in the Crucible again!” Geoff-6 concluded frustratedly, throwing his hands in the air and pacing back and forth in the Speaker’s chamber. He had just returned from the Tower’s hospital wing, where Ray-42 currently dwelt, infuriated at the treatment the hospital staff had been giving him. It hadn’t been Ray’s fault that the Vex armor he had found in the Vault had been laced with sleeper coding, although in hindsight it might have been an obvious trap.

            Just a month prior, Geoff’s fireteam had been the first recorded fireteam to enter the dread Vex stronghold named “the Vault of Glass” – a pocket dimension where the controlling Vex Axis Minds could alter the fabric of reality itself – and survive, in the process destroying the Vex’s greatest weapon, an Axis Mind named Atheon who could control time and rewrite existence almost at will. While they were storming the Vault, Ray had found a set of armor built out of a Vex chassis. Even though the Tower had no evidence that showed any other fireteam assaulting the Vault, while within it Geoff and the others had found evidence that several other Guardian teams had entered the Vault with the same goal in mind as they did, but had been defeated by the Vex and, consequently, written out of existence. Ray believed the armor had been forged by one of these fireteams as extra defense against the time-traveling robots.

            Little did they know that the armor was in fact of Vex make, and had been infused with a subroutine to take advantage of Ray’s mechanical physiology. The Vex had been especially interested in him even before the raid on the Vault for some reason, but now they made use of the fireteam’s desperation within the Vault to lay a trap. The subroutine linked Ray to the Vex networks, allowing the Axis Minds to control his body but forcing him to watch helplessly, trapped inside his own mind. Shortly after they left the Vault, Ray attacked his own team and then disappeared into the Vex teleportation grid, escaping his friends’ attempts to capture him. Over the next two weeks Ray’s body visited several planets at the Axis Minds’ behest, attacking dozens of Guardians on the Vex’s behalf with terrifying efficiency.

            Finally, Geoff’s fireteam caught up with their friend on Mars and managed to pin him down and capture him. It was Michael who tore the Vex armor off of Ray’s body and, with Geoff’s help, flushed the Vex coding from his body with his own Light. Ray was left catatonic, and had only just woken up. But memory of his attacks on fellow Guardians was still strong in the Tower, and the infirmary staff had been neglecting him. Geoff, true to character, had stormed in there to protect his friend, and had threatened more than one nurse with physical violence on Ray’s behalf.

            His mentor sighed and viewed his apprentice with a resigned patience. Geoff was relatively young – only the current generation of Guardians was younger – and he still couldn’t find the peace and ease that the older, more experienced Guardians carried with them, synchronization with the Traveler or no. Despite his student’s special connection to the Traveler, a connection that, like the Speaker, set him apart from ordinary Guardians, Geoff was still impetuous and inexperienced, and he wielded the authority that came with being the Speaker’s apprentice – “Speaker 2.0,” as Cayde-6, the Hunter Vanguard, called it – like a cudgel, using it to get special treatment, rather than further the City’s interests.

            “I hardly find it appropriate to threaten non-Guardian personnel with broken bones and dismemberment, Geoff,” the Speaker’s replied to Geoff’s outburst. “Please do keep in mind that physical injury is much more frightening to them.”

            “Tell that to the doctor who tried to hide Ray’s documentation in the trash!” Geoff yelled back, practically screaming at his teacher.

            His second-in-command, the Tower’s Head Archivist Ryan Earthborn, was far more collected than Geoff was. He was an even older member of Geoff’s generation, one of the first Guardians to be reborn in the Traveler’s Light since the Battle of the Twilight Gap. Unlike most Guardians, Ryan preferred the safety and quiet of the Tower Library’s ever-growing collection of media, where he oversaw the transcription of Golden Age studies and current field reports of the City’s enemies into clear and extensive studies of the foes of the Light. There were few who more learned in knowledge of the creatures Guardians faced every day in the field, although before Ryan had joined Geoff’s fireteam there were even fewer who had less hands-on experience. Ryan proved the perfect foil to Geoff’s rash attitude, and his calm had served the fireteam greatly in the Vault of Glass, where a single mistake could mean death – or worse.

            Even now, faced with Geoff’s temper and the Speaker’s possible ire, Ryan remained cool, and viewed his friend’s tantrum with the gaze of someone who was used to cleaning up the collateral. “Geoff, first, what you just said doesn’t make sense,” was the Awoken Warlock’s comment. “And second, in Geoff’s defense, your Excellency, the staff were treating Ray with blatant disregard. If he weren’t an Exo I suspect he would have succumbed to his wounds, if not simply died of bedsores. Geoff did overreact, but Ray’s treatment was atrocious.”

            The Speaker sighed again and massaged his temples for the fourth time that morning. “And how is Ray?”

            “He’s fine,” Geoff said, waving his hand dismissively. “His Ghost managed to put all the pieces back in the right place – in _twice_ the time it would’ve taken an trained physician!”

            “Ray is more than capable of leaving the infirmary ward under his own power,” Ryan chimed in, “Which I would recommend he do, due to his present state of discrimination. However, he is weak, and if approved for field work I recommend he be relegated to patrol missions for at least two, perhaps three weeks.”

            “Oh, right, because you’re a _doctor_ ,” Geoff said mockingly, rounding on Ryan. “Ray’s fine, asshole, he just needs a few days to get back into the swing of things. We’ll take him to the Cosmodrome, get his servos warmed up hunting that rising House of Devils Archon. Don’t want them thinking they can get uppity again, now that both Riksis and Sepiks Prime are dead.”

            Ryan rolled his eyes at his leader’s nonchalance. “You’d be surprised how much material there is in the Library on the subject of Exos and their anatomy. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you had read none of it, Geoff. Ray’s not in any condition to go Archon-hunting. What’s supposed to hold him together, duct tape and prayers?”

            Geoff threw up his hands in exasperation. “It’s called _space magic_ , you useless _prick_!”

            “Geoff,” the Speaker said softly, rising from his desk and walking toward the pair, “While I do appreciate your faith in your teammate, you and your fireteam have been through much recently. Perhaps a week of rest or, forgoing that, patrolling the Cosmodrome or Moon would be more appropriate?”

            Geoff let out a groan but started to relent. “Shaxx would tell us not to rest on our laurels after a victory like that. We should be out there expanding the City’s control!”

            “Shaxx speaks of the Crucible, where the trials you face are neither as strenuous nor as dangerous, no matter what he might say,” the Speaker responded. “And rest assured that he and his Redjacks have already begun scoping out the Waking Ruins for Crucible viability.”

            “Geoff, if there ever was a time to enjoy the spoils of victory, now would be it,” Ryan offered is support. “We’ve all fallen behind on our Tower duties. I know for a fact that Undersecretary Turney is falling to pieces trying to keep up with field reports, and both Cayde and Zavala have had a hard time finding replacements for Michael and Gavin. Even Banshee’s feeling the hurt now that Ray hasn’t been around to field test new weapons.

            “Our fireteam is made up of the Tower’s elite,” Ryan explained as Geoff’s metallic features softened. “Talent like that is hard to replace.”

            Geoff shook his head. “Ah, whatever. Screw it. Some crisis will probably happen while we’re trying to relax anyway. Damned universe is always falling to pieces, needs someone to put it back together.”

            “Who said anything about relaxing?” the Speaker said, laying his hand firmly on Geoff’s shoulder. “You haven’t communed with the Traveler in months. Did you really think you could escape practice?”

            Ryan was halfway out the door by this part, but he managed to here the beginning of Geoff’s feeble excuse. He chuckled at the Exo’s attempts to get out of his duties. Hotheaded or not, Geoff truly was gifted. Some of the things he had done in the Vault to save the fireteam didn’t have precedents in any of the library’s records. By what Ryan knew, Geoff was probably the most powerful Guardian in living memory.

            His thoughts occupied him as he strolled his way through the Tower, generally avoiding the other Guardians and tower staff. Solitude was Ryan’s natural state. Ever since having been reborn in the Traveler’s Light and led to the City by his Ghost, Ryan had been drawn to the high walls the Tower’s stock of Golden Age records and artifacts made around him. Most Guardians were warriors, resurrected to fight for humanity’s survival; they cared little about texts and data and charged immediately out to fight the City’s enemies firsthand. Scholars like Ryan were rare, and his talent for organization meant that he had little competition for the role of the Tower’s most distinguished archivist. It also meant that a conversation with him was incredibly intimidating for the average Guardian, and he tossed around references and historical names like he was there when it happened. As a result, his raw intellectualism meant he had few acquaintances, and no real friends at all. However, that mattered little to him; knowledge was the only companion he needed. “Knowledge is power” the old Golden Age adage went, a phrase that rung true in Ryan’s mind; if he knew how it was put together, he could take it apart. And that was all that mattered when it came to the Darkness.

            “I think you missed the stairs to the Library, Ryan,” said a deep, warm voice, snapping the Warlock out of his reverie.

            Ryan whirled around to find its source. He was little surprised to find it in Jack, the fireteam’s third Warlock, who stood not far away, smiling kindly. Jack was arguably one of the Tower’s most famous Warlocks, not only for his warm and caring demeanor, but also because he was a master-level Sunsinger who rivaled the Vanguard Ikora in power. He was also one of, if not the oldest Guardian in Ryan and Geoff’s generation, having been around long enough to help rebuild the City after the Battle of the Twilight Gap, although he hadn’t fought in it.

Despite his power, he rarely went out into the field, instead choosing to patrol the main routes into the City, protecting refugees from Fallen raiding parties and assisting outlying settlements with whatever problems they had. Unlike Ryan, who lived in relative obscurity, Jack was universally adored both within the Tower and outside of it, and was something of an altruistic pop star in the City. Despite this, he rarely appeared in public unless it was to work, and preferred the peace of the Tower’s gardens and scenic walkways to City life or patrolling the frontier. Together with Ryan and Geoff, he formed the newly formed Fireteam AH’s first “sub-Fireteam,” Team Gents, named for the fact that its members were the three oldest of the group.

            “Sorry,” Ryan said to his companion, smiling in spite of himself. “I just came from a meeting with Geoff and the Speaker, so, as you can guess, I’m a little tired.”

            Jack chuckled softly. “Uh oh. What trouble did Geoff cause this time?” he asked, bemused, following as Ryan began to walk back towards the Library.

            “The infirmary staff were neglecting Ray,” Ryan explained. “Geoff may have threatened just about every single one of them with painful death and dismemberment. I, of course, had to do damage control, but the good news is that Ray should be out within the day.”

            Jack’s features darkened uncharacteristically. “What did you say the doctors were doing?”

            “Nothing that should be concerning anymore,” Ryan said exasperatedly. “Ray is perfectly functional and will be discharged later today on the Speaker’s orders. He’s weak, and we won’t be doing any missions as a fireteam anytime soon, but for now we should all just catch up on our late work.”

            “If that’s your professional opinion,” Jack said jokingly, returning back to his normal demeanor.

            “In fact it is,” Ryan said, stopping in front of the Library stairs. “We all have our duties. If you see Michael and…the other one, let them know the same.”

            “You don’t seem too keen on doing this whole fireteam thing, Ryan,” Jack commented, cocking an eyebrow.

            “I don’t like doing field work,” Ryan responded, “Being trapped in a godforsaken pocket dimension and chasing a runaway Vex experiment around the system hardly helped that. My duty is here in the library, arming other Guardians with knowledge, should they so choose, so that they can be more effective in the field. I do what I’m good at, they do what they’re good at.”

            “You’re also good at saving my bacon, if I recall correctly,” Jack offered. “You should still look into doing field work at least sometimes.”

            “Adrenaline is a wonderful hormone, Jack, but I think I’ve used up mine for a good, long time. Good-bye.”

            And with that he left.

            Jack smiled and shook his head. As aloof as Ryan had tried to be, he hadn’t been so distant curled up next to the rest of them on the cold floors of the Vault for warmth and protection. There was some personable, friendly qualities in him somewhere, you just had to coax them out.

            Content to let Ryan bury himself in books and reports for the time being, Jack decided to stroll towards the Tower’s most popular watering hole to see if he could find Michael and Gavin. The duo were practically inseparable since being on the same fireteam brought them together, despite being a Titan and a Hunter, respectively, and often this time of the day on their days off they could be found challenging each other in a drinking contest. Michael always won because Gavin weighed about 90 pounds wet, but that didn’t him from trying.

            Jack was glad Gavin had found a friend in Michael. He had shown up to the Tower one day in a Reef ship with no Ghost, wondering where he could sign up to be a Guardian. According to him, he had been exiled from the Reef for insubordination, but something about his story hadn’t been convincing. Miraculously, a Ghost had, in fact, floated up to him and bonded almost that very instant, despite the fact that nearly every other Guardian became a Guardian by being long-dead warriors resurrected by their Ghosts to fight for the City. At first, Gavin was friendless and shy, and many of the other Guardians hadn’t known how to deal with or react to him. Jack had tried, but the generational gap and Jack’s own duties had made it difficult. The Vault of Glass assignment had been a blessing in disguise for him.

            Sure enough, as he approached the pub many Guardians patronized after completing missions he heard a fracas telling him that something was going down. Muffled chanting and deep thuds greeted him before he even opened the door. Sure enough, inside he found the bar’s entire population clustered around one table, singing along with the duo dancing atop it and stomping in time with the song. The barkeep, a grizzled old Exo named Gustavo-78, merely rolled his eyes in resignation when Jack looked his way.

            “Hey, it’s Jackie!” called Gavin from atop the table, slurring his words slightly. His yellow Awoken eyes glowed in the bar’s dim lighting, making it look like he had two miniature fires in his eye sockets.

            “Alright guys, I think that’s it for today!” his companion and best friend, Michael, called to the other patrons. Together with Gavin and Ray, he formed the Fireteam’s second sub-Fireteam, Team Lads. A chorus of groans and cries of dismay were the response. “Ah, take it and shove it!” he responded in kind. “We’ve got lives, you lazy turds!”

            Both leapt down from the table to meet with their teammate. “I see you two are keeping busy,” Jack commented, amused.

            “Hey, life is good!” Gavin responded excitedly. “The Vault is broken, Ray’s alright again, some Guardian destroyed the Black Garden’s Heart, and Cayde and Zavala just signed us on for scouting missions on Mars for the next six months!”

            “Hell, I’ll drink to that!” Michael said, bumping his mug with Gavin’s and downing his drink in a few gulps.

            “How did you know Ray’s recovered?” Jack asked Gavin.

            “Well, you wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t,” was the Hunter’s response. “You said you’d come find us again when he got better.”

            “Hey, that’s right! You did say that!” said Michael. “Good memory, Gav!”

            Jack not for the first time found himself smiling at the young Guardian. Despite appearing for all the world to be an airhead, Gavin hid a quick wit and a sharp mind behind a façade of bravado and immaturity. It was a practiced act, and Jack had seen more and more behind the mask as their time in the Vault went on. It wasn’t until they had emerged that Gavin had made a confession more than a few of the fireteam had been expecting: he was not, in fact, Gavin Reefborn. It was an assumed identity, and he hadn’t really been kicked out of the Reef. He had left of his own accord.

            Gavin’s real identity was Prince Uldren Sov, brother to Mara Sov, Queen of the Reef. Tired of hiding in the shadows with the rest of his people, Uldren had taken a ship and a gun and come to the City to fight for the Traveler. He hadn’t been aware of the normal method of becoming a Guardian but had somehow ended up with a Ghost anyways. Gavin still flew the ship, but the gun gathered dust in his quarters after having switched to using City-made armaments.

            Despite this revelation, the fireteam still insisted on calling him Gavin, which he approved of; that was who he was to them, and that’s who he preferred to be. He had come to the City to leave behind what being Prince of the Awoken meant, and he had no desire to go back.

            “What’s Geoff up to?” Gavin asked, handing his half-full mug to Michael to replace his friend’s now-empty one.

            “The usual, I assume,” Jack responded as Michael drained Gavin’s mug as quickly as he had his own. “Ryan said he was with the Speaker, but if I know Geoff, that won’t last long.”

            “What about Rye Bread?” Michael asked, referring to Ryan by his much-hated nickname.

            “Trying as hard as he can to avoid contact with other people.”

            “So, the usual then?” Gavin asked.

            “Pretty much.”

            Michael thought for a moment, swirling the dregs of his drink around in the mug. “Let’s go see Ray. Is he actually out yet, or are they just signing off the paperwork?”

            “Well, apparently the hospital staff haven’t been too kind,” Jack replied. “So I don’t know for sure. Want to go find out?”

            “Hell yeah, let’s get out of here,” Michael said, emptying his mug onto the floor. Jack heard Gustavo groan from behind the bar.

            “I’m with you, boy!” Gavin said, following Jack and his best friend out the door.

            The infirmary was on the opposite side of the Tower from the bar, but the walk went quickly for Jack, listening to Michael and Gavin go back and forth about the new missions they had been assigned from the Vanguard. Following the victory against the Vex on Mars that had been the raid on the Black Garden by another Guardian, the Vex’s control in the system had been more or less broken, especially after the loss of the Vault of Glass on their stronghold of Venus. Now, however, the Vanguard were concerned about the Cabal’s ability to effectively control a large portion of Mars’ surface, which was an even greater threat now that their rivals on Mars, the Vex, had been more or less defeated. Michael and Gavin had been assigned to breach the Exclusion Zone and sow chaos behind the Cabal’s front lines to draw their attention away from the Vex’s new lack of combat effectiveness.

            “Seriously, how many Axis Minds have the Vex lost by now?” Michael asked as they approached the infirmary.

            “I can’t believe they haven’t just given up,” Gavin commented.

            “Well, there was Atheon and his crony the Templar, of course,” Jack responded, ticking them off on his fingers as they walked through the front doors. “Then we had that Nexus Mind – Sekrion or whatever – that we killed on Venus before we raided the Vault. And that other Guardian, the one who went to the Black Garden? He killed another one on Venus to find out where the gate was, and then another on Mars to weaken the Vex’s defenses around the gate, and then he said he killed another three to destroy the Heart. So that’s…eight?”

            “Damn,” Michael said, almost awed. “How many do they have?”

            Whatever Jack’s response would have been was drowned out by the shouting they heard as they approached Ray’s room.

            “Oh no,” Jack groaned, upon hearing whose voice it was.

            “Is that Geoff?” Gavin asked, confused.

            “Uh oh,” Michael said, his eyes going wide.

            It was indeed Geoff. Apparently even the Speaker hadn’t been able to keep his student and check, and apparently the Exo hadn’t threatened enough Tower staff during his last visit. To the trio’s surprise, Ray’s hospital bed was empty, and that apparently was the subject of Geoff’s current tirade.

            “I left specific instructions to contact me when he was ready to leave!” he yelled. “I was supposed to be here with the rest of the Fireteam to meet him!”

            The target of his ire was a hapless nurse who clutched a manila folder in trembling hands. She looked up at Geoff with wide eyes; almost every Guardian was taller than the average human by a few inches, a byproduct of their heroic stature. Exos by design usually had a few inches on even other Guardians, and as a result Geoff towered over his poor victim.

            “I’m s-sorry, sir,” the nurse stuttered, “But I w-wasn’t assigned to this r-room. I’m just here to get the patient’s files.”

            “Then who _was_ assigned to this room?” Geoff asked.

            Manila envelope held protectively up and a few inches out from her body, the beleaguered nurse broke eye contact and looked away, muttering a name. Jack saw the disaster before it had even begun broiling behind Geoff’s faceplate, and stepped in to avoid it.

            “Where did Ray go?” Jack asked, placing his hand on Geoff’s shoulder to pull him away.

            Recognizing Jack, the nurse’s face brightened immediately. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t know,” she offered, “But I think an announcement came over the Tower PA today about the Vanguard wanting to see him for debriefing, so I imagine he most likely went there.”

            “Debriefing?” Michael said quietly, looking at Gavin. “That probably isn’t good.”

            “I swear, if Zavala does anything to him-!” Geoff yelled, leaving the threat hanging as he began striding towards the door.

            “Lay off, Geoff, the Vanguard aren’t gonna do anything to him,” Michael said, fixing him with a stern look but stepping aside to allow his Fireteam leader to pass.

            “None of this was Ray’s fault,” Jack said, walking out into the hallway with the rest of them after Geoff, “It wouldn’t make sense for them to punish him – or do something else – especially considering how close he and Cayde are.”

            “Hey, yeah,” Gavin added, trailing behind the group, “Ray is like Cayde’s favorite. He gives him all the best missions, all the tough ones that he says no one else could get done ‘the right way.’”

            “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Jack asked teasingly.

            “No!” Gavin protested, forcefully. “Besides, Ray’s been a Guardian for, like, twice as long as I have.”

            “That’s not really saying much,” Michael said, smirking.

            “Aw, sod off,” Gavin said, shoving the older (and much larger) Guardian, unsuccessfully.

            Ahead of them Geoff stomped through the Tower’s hallways, full of indignation and purpose. As they crossed the Tower plaza there were several Guardians who looked like they wanted to come up and talk with the Speaker’s apprentice, but upon seeing the look on his face a path cleared quickly for Geoff and those behind him.

            They passed the Crucible desks and Shaxx looked up from what he was working on. “Ah, Michael, Gavin! Come over here,” he said, his deep voice booming. He ignored Geoff as the Warlock strode past him towards the Vanguards’ table.

            The duo reluctantly hurried over. “Glad to have a chance to talk with you,” the Crucible’s master said, towering over them. “I wanted to discuss Ray, and I know you two are on a three-man Fireteam with him, so I figured your input would be best.”

            The Titan and the Hunter looked at each other. “Actually, Lord Shaxx,” Michael said hesitantly, “I think Geoff was going to…‘discuss’ Ray with the Vanguard right now.”

            “Yes, I saw,” Shaxx said shortly, “But I have no interest in crossing swords with the Traveler’s Chosen, at least until he’s more sensible about this.”

            “You heard about how he’s been acting?” Gavin asked.

            “Little one, we all have,” Shaxx replied. “The Speaker let us all know earlier that he’s in a mood over this whole thing. As much as I can appreciate and respect the care and concern he has for your fireteam, he really should keep a more level head if he’s going to lead you in the field.”

            “He’s usually pretty alright,” Michael offered in Geoff’s defense, “But yeah, this whole thing with Ray has him all up in knots.”

            “And I thought Warlocks were supposed to be cool and superior,” Shaxx mused. “He’s acting a lot like a Titan in a foul mood.”

            Michael chuckled.

            “So what did you want to talk with us about?” Gavin asked.

            “Well, I’m sure you both know how devoted Ray is to the Crucible,” Shaxx said. “And I’m sure the fact that he’s been banned for the time being will hit him hard. But there is a certain part of the Crucible that the City holds no authority over.”

            Michael frowned. “And? Where are you going with this?”

            “Well if the City and the Consensus don’t control it, it means Ray is not technically banned from it. But I’d need you to put in a good word for Ray with the person who is in charge, just to seal the deal.”

            “To make them sure he won’t, y’know…again,” Gavin deduced.

            “Who’s the person?” Michael asked.

            Shaxx looked over the pair’s heads at another tall figure approaching from behind them. “I’d like you to meet someone…”

***

            Geoff had been prepared for an unpleasant conversation with the Vanguard, but to his surprise as he approached their command table he saw Ray, standing next to Cayde, talking and laughing with the Guardians’ leaders. He was so focused on the interaction, in fact, that none of them saw Geoff and Jack approaching.

            “Ray!” Geoff called, happy to see his friend back to his normal state.

            Ray and the Vanguard turned to look at the approaching pair, and upon seeing his fireteam leader the other Exo’s eyes light up brighter. “Geoff! Jack!”

            Geoff could feel his bad mood slipping away as soon as he saw how well Ray was. Despite everything, he knew deep down that the only reason he had been upset was because he was worried about Ray and what the Vanguard might do to him. Seeing the Hunter acting like his normal self after everything they had been through took a huge burden off of Geoff’s shoulders. “You haven’t been hurting my point man, have you, Mistress Ikora?”

            The Warlock Vanguard smiled lightly. “No, Geoff, we were just debriefing him about the Vault raid, since we hadn’t had the opportunity yet.”

            “Yeah, we decided to skip the waterboarding about that whole ‘Vex drone’ thing,” Cayde-6 joked. “What, with the evil robot mind control and all that.”

            “Cayde, recent events are hardly a laughing matter,” the Titan Vanguard and the Vanguard’s Commander, Zavala, chastised him sternly.

            “Look, Zavala, I told you already – it’s not his fault! It can’t be! Even Ikora agrees with me on this!” Cayde responded. “And that happens, like, never!”

            “I was not assigning blame, Cayde,” Zavala said back. “Nor do I think that what happened was Ray’s fault. But the fact remains that three Guardians are dead, never to return. We’ve never seen anything like this before, and the implications are staggering. If the Vex can do this to any Exo, so long as they wear the armor-”

            “Hey, look, guys, it’s been great, but I gotta go,” Ray said nervously. Geoff could tell that talking about his actions while he was under the Vex’s control was making him very uncomfortable, and he wanted to leave the scene immediately.

            “Of course,” Ikora said, nodding at Geoff. “He’s all yours, Chosen.”

            “Oh hey,” Cayde called after Ray as he was leaving. “Don’t forget about that thing I told you!”

            “I won’t!” Ray called back, leaving quickly. Geoff and Jack trailed behind him.

            “What was that about?” Jack asked as they caught up with Ray.

            “Oh, you know,” Ray replied. “Hunter stuff.”

            Any further questions Jack and Geoff might have had were shoved to the back of their minds when Michael and Gavin ran up to them, with a massive Titan clad in gold armor walking calmly behind them.

            Ray stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing Jack by the hem of his sleeve. “By the Traveler,” he swore quietly to the Warlock, “That’s Lord Saladin!”

            “Yes,” Jack said, frowning in confusion. “And?”

            “Who?” Geoff asked, sizing the Titan up.

            “Hey guys!” Gavin said excitedly, “You’re never gonna believe this, but-!”

            “Lord Saladin’s back in the Tower to host another Iron Banner tournament,” Jack said nonchalantly. “It’s actually pretty believable.”

            “You’re not wrong,” Michael said, just as excitedly, “But that’s not all! Saladin told us that-”

            “ _Who is Lord Saladin?_ ” Geoff asked exasperatedly, frustrated that no one was listening to him.

            “So this is the famous – or infamous – fireteam that conquered the Vault of Glass,” the gold-clad Titan spoke, finally catching up to Michael and Gavin. “We’ve lost many a Guardian to that Vex fortress. I’m glad to see it finally cleaned out.”

            “ _Oh my Traveler guys Saladin just talked to us_ ,” Ray said, awestruck.

            “It’s good to see you again, Jack. I trust you won’t be participating in the tournament this time, either?” Saladin said, after appraising Ray with a small pause.

            Jack held up his hands and smiled softly. “Afraid not, Your Grace. Fighting other Guardians just isn’t for me.”

            “So you’ve said,” Saladin responded, a slight smile audible in his voice despite his face being hidden behind a helmet. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me, then.”

            “ _You know him?_ ” Gavin whispered to Jack incredulously.

            “ _I think you’re forgetting he’s like twice as old as the rest of us,_ ” Michael whispered back.

            “So you,” Saladin said, turning to Geoff, who straightened up in response, “Would be the new Chosen of the Traveler that I’ve heard so much about.”

            “I don’t think we’ve met before,” Geoff said, warily. “Who are you again?”

            “We have not met,” Saladin agreed. “Last time I was in the Tower you were still a newborn. I recall the Speaker talking highly of you already.”

            “Saladin and his comrades are veterans of the Twilight Gap,” Jack explained. “They spend a lot of time in solitude outside of the City, helping isolated villages and sparring with each other to hone their fighting skill.”

            “Well, I can see why you get along so well then,” Michael said dryly.

            “And this,” Saladin said at last, looking straight at Ray, who froze up, “Would be the Son of the Vault.”

            Ray’s euphoria deflated like a popped balloon, while Michael and Gavin looked at each other, shocked and confused. Geoff could feel the anger building in him again. “ _Now wait just a minute-!_ ” he started in on Saladin.

            “Hold your peace, Chosen,” Saladin said, calmly but sternly, holding up a hand, palm out, to quiet Geoff. “That was meant neither as an insult nor a judgment. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

            “What do you mean?” Jack asked, putting his hand on Ray’s shoulder to comfort him.

            “Ray, like the rest of you, went into the Vault and emerged the victor,” Saladin explained. “But unlike the rest of you, Ray was changed irreversibly by his experience – both before and after what happened in there. He found something of himself in that Vex armor that he didn’t know he had before, and rather than be consumed by the power of the machines, he fought against it, and won.”

            Despite himself, Ray felt something warm and organic welling up in his torso. He had idolized the Iron Lords since Shaxx had first told him about them, and hearing Saladin speak so highly above him reversed the pain he had felt when the Titan had called him by that name.

            “To say Ray is the Son of the Vault is to say that he is strong and powerful. He conquered both the Darkness in the Vault and the Darkness in himself, and came out all the brighter.”

            Saladin looked Ray right in his eyes then. “You should take that name, no matter what the foolish may say. Wear it with pride.”

            Ray could only nod.

            Gavin shook himself as if from a daze. “So Ray can fight in the Iron Banner then?”

            “I see no reason why he shouldn’t be able to. The Iron Lords do not answer to the Consensus,” Saladin responded.

            Ray wasn’t sure if he wanted to faint or scream. “I can fight in the Iron Banner?” he asked incredulously.

            “I just said as much, yes.”

            “I don’t know what to say,” Ray said to his idol. “Thank you!”

            “Repay me by proving yourself in the tournament,” was Saladin’s response. “Now there’s something I wanted to talk to the Vanguard about. I’d rather it be private, but I would be remiss to assume I could order the Chosen to do anything, so if he so chooses to join us, he may.”

            “What’s it about?” Geoff asked, curiosity aroused.

            “Scouts of mine have brought back some interesting news from the European Dead Zone,” Saladin explained. “I’d like the Vanguards’ advice on it.”

            Geoff shrugged. “Sure, I’ll add whatever input I can. Lead the way, Lord Saladin!”

            “We’ll catch you later, Geoff,” Jack said, waving him off and beginning to walk to the Tower quad.

            “Where are we going?” Gavin asked, Michael and Ray trailing behind. Ray still seemed to be in a state of contented bliss.

            “We’re going back to the Speaker’s lounge,” Jack said matter-of-factly. “If I know him – and I do – he’s going to be in on that little meeting, too. And after Saladin’s said his peace, he and the Vanguard are going to go to the Consensus and argue for a few hours about what to do next. Meanwhile, Geoff’s going to come find us and tell us what’s up, and then we’ll go solve the problem anyways, probably before the Consensus is done yelling at each other.”

            There was a moment of silence. Then –

            “Jack, you’re scary sometimes, you know that?” Ray said.

            “Don’t get me wrong, Geoff’s my best friend,” Jack responded. “But c’mon, he’s too predictable, am I right? Now come on, we’ve got to go drag Ryan away from his books.”

            And the three Lads nodded to each other and agreed that yes, Geoff was very predictable.

            An hour later, with the addition of a reluctant and very grumpy Ryan, Fireteam AH sat waiting in the Speaker’s lounge, where Geoff often spent his free time if he wasn’t hiding from the Speaker, and where they had made their first plans to go into the Vault a few months prior.

            A mental timer went off in Jack’s head and he set the book he had been reading – borrowed from the Speaker’s collection – down. Michael and Gavin had Gavin’s pre-Collapse deck of playing cards (courtesy of Cayde) out, and were arguing over rules, Ray had fallen asleep watching them, and Ryan was trying his best to let everyone know how displeased he was that they had dragged him out of the Archives.

            “And,” Jack said, getting everyone’s attention, “Cue Geoff.”

            Ray sat up. As if rehearsed, Geoff rushed in just then, as out-of-breath as an Exo could be and very excited.

            “You guys are not gonna believe this!” he cried, eyes wide.

            “Do tell,” Jack said, bemused.

            “Yes, do,” Ryan said. “Please try your very best to convince me that I’m not wasting my time here, or I may have a few throats to strangle.”

            Geoff looked confused but forged ahead anyway. “So I was in that meeting with the Vanguard and Saladin, right? About that thing with the scouts?”

            “Oh yes,” Michael said, feigning sincerity. “I do believe that’s true. I could be wrong, though”

            “So he’s telling us and the Speaker about it, right?” Geoff said, either ignoring or not noticing Michael’s sarcasm. “And apparently these scouts of his found something amazing – an exotic-class heavy weapon that they thought didn’t exist anymore!”

            Ray frowned. “And exotic-class heavy? Which one?”

            Geoff sat down opposite Jack and everyone crowded around. He grinned, incredibly proud of himself, and looked each of them in the eye in turn. “So here’s how it goes,” he said, smiling wildly. “Let me tell you guys about… _the Gjallarhorn_.”

            “The Gjallarhorn?” Ray said, almost incredulously. “You’re joking.”

            “Like the actual Gjallarhorn,” Ryan said, equally disbelieving. “With the wolf’s head design and the embossed gold and all,”

            “The Gjallarhorn that fires Wolfpack Rounds? That Gjallarhorn?” Jack asked, almost confused.

            The good mood and self-satisfaction disappeared from Geoff’s face like a candle going out. “Wait, you all already knew about this thing?” he asked, his voice going from shock to indignation.

            “You didn’t?” Michael asked, snorting.

            “ _How the hell did you already know about this and I didn’t?_ ” Geoff yelled in frustration.

            “I mean,” Gavin said, his face blank, “Do you really want us to answer that?”

            Geoff stared at Gavin for a moment. “No,” he said finally, defeated.

            “So you’re saying that Saladin’s scouts supposedly found a Gjallarhorn, intact, in the wild,” Ryan asked, raising one eyebrow.

            He looked around the room at the other members of his Fireteam and then shook his head. “I don’t buy it,” he said. “Where is it, then?”

            “Wait a minute, _A_ Gjallarhorn?” Michael asked. “As in, there’s more than one?”

            “Used to be,” Jack said. “They made about fifty of them after Twilight Gap. Saladin forged them from the armor of the Guardians who fell in combat. They were gifts to the survivors.”

            “That’s…morbid,” Ray said. “Hey, great job, here’s your dead friend.”

            “And they all got destroyed,” Ryan said. “Something like forty-seven or forty-eight of them were accounted for. I doubt the other two made it this long.”

            “I dunno,” Michael said. “This _is_ Lord Saladin.”

            “Not Saladin, his scouts,” Ryan corrected. “And if they found it, where is it?”

            “Well,” Geoff said, drawing the word out “They didn’t exactly find it just laying there.”

            “Then where did they find it?” Gavin asked.

            “The scouts ‘made visual contact’ with a Fallen crew in the Abaddon region of the European Dead Zone,” Geoff explained, doing air quotes. “They say they saw it in the Captain’s hands – or claws, rather.”

            “So, nothing then.” Ryan said flatly. “A couple of easily excitable Guardians saw a Fallen Captain holding a gold-painted rocket launcher and thought it was the Gjallarhorn.”

            “Saladin wouldn’t just pick anyone to work under him,” Ray said defensively. “They might be telling the truth.”

            “I doubt it,” Ryan replied, unconvinced. “Now if you’ll all excuse me I have to go make up for the time I’ve lost on this conversation.” He turned and began to leave.

            “I want to go after it,” Geoff stated firmly.

            “ _What?_ ” Ryan cried, whirling around in the doorframe.

            “You’re joking,” Jack said, looking at his fireteam leader. “ _Please_ tell me you’re joking.”

            “I’d be down to go after it,” Michael said, eyes lighting up. “Dude, it’s the _Gjallarhorn_ we’re talking about.”

            “Yeah, same here,” Gavin said, smiling. “Let’s go!”

            “There’s just one problem,” Geoff said.

            “Oh yes,” Ryan commented, his voice dripping sarcasm and frustration, “I can see that your rampant insanity poses a threat to yourself and the rest of us.”

            “What is it?” Gavin asked.

            “We can’t get flight clearance.”

            The smiles disappeared off of Michael and Gavin. “Why not?” Ray asked.

            “The Speaker said I couldn’t go,” Geoff replied.

            There was a pregnant pause. “So let me get this straight,” Jack said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not only did you ask the Speaker if you could chase down what might be – emphasis on the _might be_ – a sighting of the fabled Gjallarhorn, never mind the low possibility that it actually was the Gjallarhorn, and you had him tell you that you couldn’t go after it, and you _still planned on going?_ ”

            Geoff stared at his friend blankly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

            Jack could only shake his head.

            “Flight clearance shouldn’t be a problem,” Gavin said. “We’ve got an in with Miss Holliday. Ray, whattya say we talk to our, ah, friend, see if we can’t get something going?”

            “Sure,” Ray said. “He owes me lots of favors. Let’s do it. Just so long as Geoff actually has a plan this time.”

            “I don’t believe this,” Jack said. “We’re going to get in SO much trouble.”

            “Aw, c’mon, Jack!” Geoff said, moving to sit next to him. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

            Jack looked at Geoff. Geoff looked back. Finally, Jack sighed. “Alright, I guess I’m in. Let’s do this, huh?”

            “You’re all insane.”

            Everyone turned to look at Ryan. “All of you,” he said, utter disbelief on his face. “Certifiably insane.”

            “What’re you on about, Ryan?” Gavin asked, as confused as everyone else.

            “You’re chasing a _ghost_ ,” he said incredulously. “You’re going to go into the Abaddon region, the single most powerful stronghold the House of Devils has outside of their Lair, chasing after something that _doesn’t exist_. There is no Gjallarhorn. I don’t know what those scouts saw, but the odds that even one has survived this long are astronomical – impossible! You’re just throwing yourselves to the Fallen for no reason!”

            “Dude, Ryan,” Michael said, “We beat the Vault of Glass. You think we’re going to let a few Fallen end us?”

            “We survived the Vault on luck and little more,” Ryan responded. “And you’re even dumber than you look if you think anything else. We survived the Vault, yes. We beat Atheon, yes. We also nearly died every five minutes and we were very, _very_ lucky every single time. There is _nothing_ keeping _any of us_ from making one stupid mistake and losing everything to a random Vandal with a wire rifle.”

            “You don’t think we can do this?” Geoff asked.

            “I think the odds are against us,” Ryan replied. “And I’m in no mood to gamble with my life again. If you’re still intent on doing this, you can count me out.”

            He turned to leave. “You’re not serious?” Gavin asked.

            “I’ve never been more serious,” Ryan said back over his shoulder. “And I know that’s saying something.”

            And then he was gone.

            There was silence in the lounge for a while. “We should probably be leaving soon, guys,” Ray said finally. “The Speaker’s probably going to be back soon.”

            “I guess we won’t be solving the problem before the Consensus is done arguing, huh Jack?” Michael said.

            “Okay,” Geoff said, standing up and facing his fireteam. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning, early, to avoid anyone who shouldn’t be asking questions from asking them. Ray and Gavin, can you two get your ‘friend’ to talk to Holliday before then?”

            Ray shrugged. “Yeah, sure, shouldn’t be a problem.”

            “We’ll talk to him straightaway,” Gavin asked.

            “Everyone pack for a long trip,” Geoff said. “Everything you think you might need, mark it for transmat.”

            “So that’s just it then?” Jack asked, frustration edging into his voice. “We’re just going to leave Ryan?”

            “Ryan said he didn’t want to come,” Geoff said back. “I’m not going to make him.”

            “We’re a _fireteam_ , Geoff!” Jack replied, standing up. “We should go all together, or not at all!”

            “If you think I’m passing this chance up, you’re crazy,” Michael said. “Jack, it’s the _Gjallarhorn_.”

“This isn’t exactly an official mission anyways, Jack,” Ray added in. “It would just probably be easier with him than without him.”

            “We’re going with or without Ryan,” Geoff said. “If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to either. I’m not making anyone do anything they don’t want to.”

            “ _You’re_ crazy if you think I’m letting you go without me,” Jack said back. “I’m going, like it or not.”

            “Okay then,” Geoff said. “Let’s pack and get ready. Meet in the hangar at 0300, guys. Ray and Gavin, make sure Holliday’s got the ships waiting. We’ll probably need to leave quick.”

***

            The moon shone brightly and the stars were still out when Fireteam AH met in the hangar the next morning. Coffee mug in hand and yawning sleepily, the Tower’s Shipwright, Amanda Holliday, sat watching the team from the control tower. She hadn’t told Geoff exactly what the “official” reason for their mission was, and he didn’t ask.

            “Okay, guys, huddle up,” Geoff said to the team, brining them all together, equipment in hand. “Got everything you need? Gavin, you got that hand cannon you found in the Vault. How’s it treating you?”

            “I’ve decided to call in the ‘Fatebringer,’” Gavin said, feigning pompousness. “Because that’s what it does. I’ve also got on my Lucky Raspberry, and I’m bringing along Miss Ikora’s shotgun.”

            “Yeah, that’s nice and pretentious,” Michael said, hefting a shotgun. “Zavala came up with the name for mine – ‘Found Verdict.’ I like it. Very official-sounding. Also got the Inmost Light and the Thunderlord with me, same as always.”

            “What, and that name’s not pretentious?” Gavin said, his voice cracking with indignation.

            “Okay, guys, settle down,” Geoff said. “Ray, that’s a new sniper. I didn’t think you kept anything from the Vault.”

            “Nothing but this,” Ray said, presenting the rifle. “Because there’s no way a rifle this awesome could be evil in any way. Whoever made this sniper really knew what they were doing – it handles and fires like a dream.”

            “What’s with the armor?” Michael asked, eying up Ray’s new green-and-gold ensemble.

            “ _That_ , my friend,” Ray said proudly, posing, “Is a gift, courtesy of Lord Saladin. He gave it to me last night when I went back to the Tower quad with Gavin. Full set of Iron Regalia armor, though I won’t need the helmet because of the Radar.

            “And hey, check this out,” he continued, slinging off his back a sleek, clean, all-white rifle with a sharp-looking foot-long bayonet on the end. “Also went to talk to Banshee, he told me the manufactories in the City wanted someone to field test this. It’s a prototype auto rifle named ‘the Monte Carlo.’ He said since I usually test stuff for him anyways I could do it.”

            “I’ve got that amazing fusion rifle we found in the Vault,” Jack added in, “Plus, of course, the SUROS and the Praxic robes.”

            “And I’ve got that rifle I pried out of Atheon’s corpse,” Geoff added, slinging the rifle across his back. “No exotic-class armor, though.”

            “Okay, then, that’s it,” Ray said. He turned to the control tower and called, “Amanda, five ships, ready to launch!”

            From the tower the Shipwright gave him a thumbs up.

            “So, out of curiosity,” Michael began, “And you don’t have to tell me, I’m just curious; who is you guys’ ‘friend’ and how can he get Holliday to counterfeit an unapproved 3 A.M. launch?”

            Gavin and Ray looked at each other as if to ask, “Should we tell him?” and then turned back to the group. “It’s Cayde,” Gavin admitted.

            Three jaws simultaneously dropped. “ _Cayde-6_?” Jack asked. “The _Hunter Vanguard_? He went behind the Speaker’s back to get Amanda to do this?”

            “Is it really that surprising?” Ray asked.

            “No, not really,” a deep voice called from the Tower Hangar’s entrance in a defeated tone.

            Everyone turned to see who is was, expecting the worst. It was actually something far better.

            “Ryan!” Gavin called, happily surprised. “You came after all!”

            “Yes, well, since you’re all insane, I suppose it’s up to me to keep Geoff alive – he’s of some importance to the Speaker,” Ryan said. “Is this where I announce what gear I’m bringing with me like it makes me special?”

            “What happened, Ryan?” Geoff asked teasingly. “I thought you weren’t in a mood to risk your life again?”

            “Oh like you didn’t see this coming,” Ryan said sardonically, hefting a large bag from his shoulder. “Here, you fool, I have something for you.”

            He lobbed a glossy black helmet at Geoff. “Mark this for transmat. I know you’ve been looking for another exotic to take the place of that old duster of yours.”

            “What is it? Where’d you get this?” Geoff asked, surprised.

            “As the Tower Archivist, I have many privileges,” Ryan explained in a self-satisfied tone. “One of them is approving Archived exotic-class armor and weapons for field use. And _that_ is the Obsidian Mind, a powerful exotic helm for Voidwalkers. I think you’ll find it improves the efficiency of your super use considerably.”

            “What else you got in that bag?” Michael asked, craning his neck to see.

            “Only equipment for myself, sorry” Ryan said in a not-at-all-apologetic tone. He pulled out a helmet with a creature’s skull grafted onto it. “The Skull of Dire Ahamkara,” he said, “Funny, really, because if it were a real dire Ahamkara the skill would take up the Tower quad. This one was just a newborn, but it still holds considerable power, even in death.

            “And this,” he said, hefting a nasty, cruel-looking rifle spattered with old dried blood and affixed with a serrated bayonet, “Is the Red Death. It’s a hacked auto rifle that some madman made. Fires like a pulse rifle, and heals the wielder for every kill they make.”

            A shudder ran down five separate backs, simultaneously. “Remind me to keep you in front of me, Ryan,” Ray said warily.

            “That’s not how being the point man works, Ray,” Ryan said. “Besides, officially, this thing has been destroyed. This being the Vanguard, though, well, they kept it around for testing. I hear the Gunsmith is reverse engineering some new weapons tech from it.”

            “They had all this in the Archives?” Geoff asked, inspecting the helmet.

            “Geoff, my friend,” Ryan replied. “You would not believe what sort of exotic-class equipment they have in there. Some of it’s the only left of its kind, too.”

            Jack clasped his hand to Ryan’s shoulder. “Glad you could make it, buddy,” he said, smiling.

            Ryan smiled wryly. “Wish I could say the same, Jack,” he said back.

            Geoff turned to the control Tower, where Amanda was still watching sleepily. “Miss Holliday!” he called. “Six ships for launch!”

            She nodded in response. “My ship’s already prepped for launch, Geoff,” Ryan said to his fireteam leader. “Cayde’s not the only one with some authoritative weight around here.”

            “Okay, then,” Geoff said, smiling widely at the sight of his fireteam together and ready. “Let’s go!”

            One by one, Fireteam AH’s ships launched, six in all, from Jack’s retrofitted Arcadia-class to Gavin’s Reef-made interceptor. As they flew off toward the European Dead Zone, the Traveler gleamed softly and silently in the moonlight, and a lone figure clad in white watched from the Traveler’s Observatory.

            The Speaker sighed softly as he watched his student and his fireteam leave. “May the Light be with you, my Chosen.”


	2. Abaddon, European Dead Zone, Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A record of FIRETEAM ALPHA-ETA’s hunt for the mythical weapon GJALLARHORN, as recorded by Warlock Vanguard Ikora Rey and confirmed by Vanguard Commander Zavala.

            The Fireteam flew in an irregular, widely spaced formation to avoid detection by Fallen scans. They were about three-quarters of the way to the European Dead Zone when Geoff’s voice crackled over the comms.

            “Okay, so I’ve come up with a plan, at Ray’s request,” he said.

            “Thanks so much,” Ray said sarcastically. “How will I ever pay you back, kind sir?”

            “Shut up,” Geoff responded. “So here’s how this goes: Saladin’s scouts were able to describe, in detail, the Fallen crew that supposedly has the Gjallarhorn – in particular their Skiff’s markings. Problem is, they couldn’t find much more than that. They don’t know where they base out of, they don’t know their favorite scavenging sites, they don’t know which Baron they answer to. However, our dear and devoted Archivist, the one and only Ryan Earthborn-”

            “You’re welcome, by the way,” Ryan said flatly. “And I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

            “-happens to have a vast library of knowledge at his fingertips, and not only knew which Fallen crew it was, but, most importantly, which Devil Baron they operate under.”

            “So which one is it?” Michael asked.

            “Kelsiks is his name,” Ryan responded. “Baron of the Fallen House of Devils. He’s a mean one, and old, too. He was there when the Devils torched London during the Collapse.”

            “Wow,” Gavin said, almost awed. “That _is_ old.”

            “His personal Ketch, the Devilship Sepiks-Syn, is parked dead-center in the region,” Geoff continued, taking the comms back from Ryan. “In fact, you could almost consider Abaddon to be more or less wherever Kelsiks’ ship is at the time, rather than a fixed location. He controls the largest fleet of Devils outside of the Cosmodrome, and his Ketch serves as their HQ.”

            “So what does that mean, Geoff?” Michael asked. “Is the Gjallarhorn on the ship?”

            “No,” Ryan responded. “At least, we don’t think so. Kelsiks has been hunting Guardians since before the City’s Walls went up. To him, we’re not enemies, we’re trophies, to be hunted. If one of his Captains still has the Gjallarhorn, they must not have reported it back. What we need to do is find where the Skiff that matches Saladin’s scouts’ description operates from, and intercept them.”

            “A Baron’s Ketch has all of his underlings’ routes and records stored in the navigation center,” Geoff explained. “We get there, we find where the Skiff is, we get the Gjallarhorn.”

            “Which is where I come in,” Gavin added.

            “Exactly,” Geoff said. “You’ve worked Fallen equipment before; none of the rest of us has. We’ll need you to access the nav records and find the Skiff.”

            “So what, we just fly right up to the Ketch?” Michael asked.

            “Don’t be ridiculous, we’d be blown up the moment we got in range of the cannons,” Ryan said. “We’ll set down outside of detection range and approach – stealthily, I feel I need to add – on foot, avoiding contact with Kelsiks’ crews as much as possible. There’ll be a lift field set up below the Ketch to allow his crew down into the city to scavenge, so we’ll need to kill the guards there, but once we’re on the Ketch, well…it’s a big ship. As long as we’re quiet, we won’t be caught.”

            “Guys, we just crossed into Abaddon,” Ray said, alerting the rest of the Fireteam.

            “Okay, radio silence until we set down,” Geoff ordered. “Ray, give us coordinates for a landing zone. Preferably one away from the Fallen.”

            The Fireteam set down just outside of the ruined city that formed the heart of the Abaddon region. The Ketch was moored above one of the few remaining multistory buildings in the city. Leaving their ships hidden in garages in an ancient suburb, the team advanced on foot towards the city’s shadow.

            “Fallen crew, two blocks up,” Ray said through the comms, peering through his scope from a rooftop two stories up as they hit the outskirts of the urban area. “Looks like they’re based out of that office building. I’m counting at least ten Dregs patrolling the adjacent streets.”

            “If any one of them sees us, they’ll alert the crew,” Ryan murmured. “Ten Dregs out here means thirty inside…and twenty Vandals, not to mention the captain. Or two.”

            “That explains the Skiffs parked on the roof,” Jack said, pointing.

            “So we go around,” Geoff stated. “Ray, what about that hotel a block to the left?”

            “It’s clear,” Ray ascertained. “We could tiptoe through the lobby and they’d never know we were here.”

            They left the shadow of the car shop they were hidden in and crept slowly to the hotel. Like everything else in the city, it was ruined, with collapsing walls and a caved-in roof. Nature had reclaimed it like the rest of humanity’s ruins, moss creeping up the walls and grass and weeds growing through the cracks in the floor. As Ray approached the back door he heard a low humming and had almost stuck his head out to see when he realized what it was. “Get down!” he whispered forcefully, about-facing and tackling the two Guardians behind him to the ground.

            “What? What is it?” Geoff asked urgently.

            “Air patrol,” Ray explained, lying motionless in the doorway. The humming grew louder into a throbbing rumble, and in moments a slow-moving Skiff cruised overhead, low to the ground, turrets swiveling this way and that, seeking targets. It rounded the next skyscraper and disappeared from sight, the humming slowly fading away.

            “Oh, this is going to be _fun_ ,” Ryan lamented.

            “Kelsiks has got the city under a tight watch,” Gavin observed. “He’s got to be up to something.”

            “Or maybe he’s just paranoid,” Ray said wryly, standing and brushing the dust off of his new armor. “He’s old and cranky. Probably thinks every movement out of the corner of his eye is a Guardian trying to kill him.”

            “Or a treacherous Captain,” Michael said, peeking out of the doorway. “Way’s clear. Let’s hurry this up, huh?”

            The next hour passed uneventfully as they steadily but carefully avoided detection. As they approached where Kelsiks’ Ketch was moored, buildings occupied by Fallen crews became spaced further apart.

            “How long until we get to the lift field site?” Michael asked as they slunk through the lobby of an old bank.

            “If the rest of the city is like this, not long,” Ryan replied. “It would make sense that Kelsiks would put most of his men on the edge of the city to increase their scavenging range.”

            “Hold on,” Ray said, stopping everyone at the door. “We’ve got a problem.”

            “What?” Geoff asked, pushing forward to stand right behind him.

            “You see that plaza, just a ways away?” Ray asked, pointing from the shadow of the doorframe. “That’s where the lift field is. Check out the buildings three blocks down, about halfway between us and it. You see anything?”

            There was silence for about a minute as the Fireteam peered closely over each other’s shoulders at the line of buildings Ray pointed out. “I don’t see anything, Ray,” Jack said finally.

            “Gavin, why would that be a problem?” Ray asked.

            The other Hunter deliberated for a moment. “There should be crews manning those buildings. So far Kelsiks’ crews have been more or less evenly spaced, and there’s a big gap in between the last one and his Ketch.”

            “How much glimmer you wanna bet he has his best crews hidden in there?” Ray asked, kneeling down and looking through his scope.

            “To give a false sense of security to anyone who got this close,” Jack said. “Devious.”

            “Got to hand it to Kelsiks,” Ryan said, mildly impressed. “Not many Fallen can run that tight of a ship. Individual crews are usually notoriously unruly.”

            “Ah. Got ‘em,” Ray said, pulling away from his scope and handing the rifle to Geoff. “Fourth floor, third window from the left. It’s that one building with the huge hole in the side – you see ‘em?”

            Geoff looked through the scope. Nothing at first, and then he saw a sudden flash of yellow, and a long, alien barrel swept quickly into the sun and then just as quickly out again. “Yep. Vandal with a wire rifle. I’ll bet he’s got snipers posted in every building.”

            “Well, not every building,” Ryan corrected, “Or else they’d be crawling all over each other, and that’s a good way to get bad blood between crews. I’d guess that line isn’t so tight – just tight enough that we can’t sneak past.”

            “So we fight,” Michael said, cocking his rifle. “We crawl up to the building straight between us and the plaza, kill the Fallen, and hit the lift field.”

            “I don’t see another option,” Geoff said. “Ray?”

            “This would be a lot easier if someone else bothered to learn how to use a sniper rifle,” Ray lamented, propping his rifle through a broken windowpane. “But I can cover your guys’ approach.”

            “Okay,” Geoff said. “On three we dash to the next building across the street. We should be able to come up on them without being seen that way. Ray, we’ll call you when we draw the crew’s attention.”

            “I’ll say something nice at your funerals if this goes badly,” was the Hunter’s response.

            “Ready?” asked Geoff. “One, two, _three_!”

            The five of them dashed quickly and relatively quietly across the street into the shadow of the next building. “You do realize they can’t see you from there, right?” came Ray’s hushed voice over the comms. “I thought you guys were going to run two blocks down, not across the street!”

            “One step at a time, Ray,” came Geoff’s slightly exasperated response. “What if another crew in another building had eyes on us?”

            “Then there’s a wire rifle trained on my noggin right now,” Ray retorted. “In which case I’m dead. Bang!”

            Ray’s loud retort made Gavin jump but everyone else rolled their eyes. “Not funny, Ray,” said Jack.

            Geoff led the Fireteam around the side of the next building, out of view of the crew in the third, while Ray kept his rifle aimed in the direction of the Fallen, keeping his scope in the shade to avoid a glint giving him away. Nearly motionless, the sniper’s off-yellow coloration blended in perfectly with the colors of the urban decay.

            “Whoever made this rifle was a fucking genius,” Ray said suddenly, making everyone else seize up in surprise. “It handles like a dream and it fits perfectly against my shoulder. I think the handgrip’s even molded…”

            “Ray, how about we just maintain radio silence until–”

            Geoff’s reprimand was cut off suddenly by a loud, animalistic scream. The Fireteam’s heads suddenly whipped right to look for the noise’s source, and found, to their shock and horror, an ordinary Fallen Dreg staring straight at them crouched up against the side of the building. Its shock pistol wasn’t even unholstered, and every one of the Guardians had the vague notion that it had just finished doing the alien equivalent of zipping up its pants.

            Quicker than either party could blink, Gavin’s hand cannon was out of his holster, and the Dreg’s head disappeared in a spray of ether. But the damage had been done – a chorus of guttural cries echoed from the building, and a half-dozen wire rifles suddenly poked from upstairs windows, searching for targets. Shadows swarmed and milled in the unlit interior, and from the ground floor Vandals craned their necks through broken windows to look for the source of the distress cry.

            “Fuck it!” Michael said, drawing his rifle and charging. Gavin was right behind him, firing off rounds over his best friend’s shoulder and picking off Vandals who turned their wire rifles towards them from the upper floors.

            “Ray, move up! Now!” Geoff commanded into the comms, while Jack and Ryan dove for cover behind a ruined automobile.

            Hiding around the corner of the adjacent building, Geoff hosed off half a magazine’s worth of bullets through the windows, hitting a few Vandals and sending the rest scrambling for cover. Michael sent himself flying through the last intact window the ground floor had, hitting the ground in a roll and then coming out of it in a crouch, his rifle already up and firing. Gavin vaulted in after him, squeezing off shots one-handed. Jack and Ryan traded fire with the snipers in the upper floors until the deadly wire rifles found range, sending hissing bolts of arc energy dangerously close to the duo’s heads. As if in response, a long barrel slid itself over Geoff’s right shoulder, and before he could react it fired off six rounds in rapid succession, each of them finding their mark in a Vandal sniper’s skull.

            “Where were you?” Geoff asked in annoyance.

            “Got caught up with a street patrol from this group we’re dealing with,” Ray explained. “They could’ve gotten away to tell another crew, so, y’know.”

            The Fallen were retreating back up the building’s main staircase to the upper floors, and the snipers were pulling back in from the windows. The rest of the fireteam joined Michael and Gavin in the tower’s lobby. “How many dead?” Geoff asked Michael.

            “Six Vandals, eight Dregs,” the Titan responded. “’Bout two-thirds of a normal crew. Plus the six snipers Ray got. I’m guessing this one’s on the large side – I saw at least a dozen go up the stairs, Dregs and Vandals both.”

            “We have to kill them all, now,” Ryan said to Geoff. “You know that, right? If they get a message to the Ketch-”

            “We’re sunk before we even began,” Geoff finished. “I know, I know. Ray, I hope you’re ready to put the sniper away for a while.”

            “Sure, man,” the Hunter replied, pulling his auto rifle off of his back. “Let’s do this.”

            Michael went up first, auto rifle at the ready, followed closely by Ray. The very next floor was clear, but on the third floor they found three Dregs waiting for them, and two Vandals guarding the staircase. They must’ve tripped an alarm, or else the remainder of the crew heard the fight, because there were eight more Dregs and ten Vandals waiting for them on the fourth floor. It was rough in the confined space, and more than once Ryan found himself glad that his gory rifle revitalized him for every kill it made. More than once, Jack found himself glad he had bothered to learn from Ikora how to store Light enough for two grenades at once. More than once, Michael found himself glad he had practiced so much with Ray in fighting together. More than once, Ray found himself glad he had made himself practice for hours on end with a throwing knife – and that the Monte Carlo hastened his Ghost’s ability to transmat a new one. More than once, Gavin found himself glad he had spent all that time learning how the Fallen fought before coming to the Tower.

            More than once, Geoff found himself glad he had the best goddamn Fireteam the Tower had ever seen with him.

            The fighting eventually stopped. Fallen bodies littered the floor, leaking ether from bullet holes and knife wounds. Pockmarks and arc burns scarred the walls where shots had missed their intended targets. It was an old office building, the cubicles long since rotted away, but the tables and desks lay broken and shattered across the floor from age and the battle, or, alternatively, overturned with a Vandal or Dreg draped dramatically atop.

            “One floor left,” Jack said. “No Captain yet. Do you think Kelsiks already knows we’re here?”

            “Odds are the only comm equipment they have is on the Skiff,” said Gavin. “And once he gets on the Skiff, he’ll just take off for the Ketch to tell Kelsiks in person. The Skiff’s still here, so I’m willing to bet the Captain’s got a surprise planned for us.”

            There was a silence as everyone considered this. Ray turned to look at Gavin. “You still got that equipment Cayde gave you?” he asked.

            “Yeah, it’s Bladedancer standard issue,” Gavin responded. “What, you think I should have a little look-see, find out what the Captain’s got waiting for us?”

            “He can’t shoot what he can’t see,” Ray said back. “Go quick, before he decides to actually bail on us.”

            Gavin knelt down and fiddled with a device on his belt for a moment. Then, with an electronic hiss, he disappeared from sight. Soft footsteps crept along the floor as the rest of the Fireteam cautiously readied themselves and double-checked their weapons. Slinking up the stairs, Gavin hid in the shadows the stairway cast on itself in the light of the sunset. Almost completely invisible when still, his camouflage became more apparent with motion, and at a full sprint he was, at best, a smoky-grey silhouette.

            He reached the top of the stairs and peeked over, hidden by the darkness and his cloaking. He saw a Captain, lounging on a mock throne fashioned from scrap, his eyes fixed on the stairs. For a moment Gavin was afraid he had seen him, until the Fallen showed no reaction. Around him, spread out evenly, their eyes also watching the stairwell closely, were six Vandals. Two of them, the ones closest to the Captain, held cutlass-like shock blades in each of their arms, four in total, while the other six gripped shock rifles tightly, held at the ready. The Captain, and each of the Vandals had single, thick, yellow line painted down the center of their helmets, bright against the white background of their armor.

            “Damn,” Gavin cursed silently. “Reavers.”

            He crept back down the stairs to the Fireteam, his cloaking wearing out just as he reached them. “The Captain’s still here,” he said, “And he’s just up there, waiting for us. He’s got six Vandals with him.”

            The Guardians looked at each other. “Well that doesn’t sound like much,” Geoff commented, surprised. “You sure there weren’t any traps or anything? No trip mines, no arc webbing?”

            “Here’s the catch,” Gavin explained. “They’re all Reavers, even the Captain.”

            Five curses echoed around the room as each member of the Fireteam hissed their favorite expletive. Reaver Fallen were a different class of enemy altogether – they were the oldest and strongest of their race, veterans of a dozen losses and a hundred victories. Most of them had been members of the original Fallen crews that had arrived in-system after the Collapse, hundreds of years ago. Age was kinder to the Fallen that to humanity; they only got tougher the older they got, and more experienced on top of that. Reaver Vandals could nail a Guardian’s head at a thousand yards with a wire rifle as quickly as the weapon could fire, could weather a hail of bullets and keep fighting, and were master swordsmen with their dreaded arc-infused shock blades. Reaver Captains rarely used anything other than shock blades, and could cleave a Guardian in two with little effort.

            “Geoff, how are we on Ghost resurrection?” Jack asked, clearly not thinking they could get through the next fight without dying at least once or twice.

            “I think we’re still good,” Geoff said cautiously, “But we should be ready to assist, just in case. I don’t want to take any chances.”

            “Okay, pulling out the shotgun for this one,” Michael said.

            “Same,” Gavin added. “Two of the Vandals have shock blades as well, so they’re going to want to be getting up close and personal.”

            Ray fingered a throwing knife, testing the edge. “I think I can nail the two of them when we first get up there,” he said, “Hopefully put them out of the fight long enough to turn things in our favor.”

            Jack was nervously testing the charge rate on his fusion rifle. “I think I’ll bring up the rear,” he said, “This thing takes a second to spool up.”

            “Okay, here’s how it’s going to go,” Geoff said. “Ray goes first, Michael and Gavin follow. Ryan and I will be behind them. Jack, you watch our backs, see if you can’t nail the Captain with that. If it charges slow, it should hit like a truck.”

            Ray nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”

            They crept up the stairs as quietly as it was possible for three Warlocks, two Hunters, and a Titan. Geoff was sure the Fallen heard them coming. At the top, Ray leapt over the last four steps, a throwing knife in each hand. One went wide, the Vandal it was intended for spinning out of the way, but the other found its target, slamming into the Fallen’s face. He dropped his swords and clutched at his mask and fell, leaking ether and screaming. The other four leveled their rifles and fired off a burst each, shock rounds streaking towards their targets. The Captain was already up and moving when Ray hit the ground, and charged him, shock blades held out for a slash.

            Ray jumped once, twice and planted a foot on the Captain’s mask, using it as a springboard. The Captain staggered back as Ray flipped over him, and the other Vandal with shock blades charged Michael and Gavin. The duel was over quickly; the pair put a shell each into the alien and he dropped, armor and helmet shattered. Geoff and Ryan opened fire on the other Vandals, staggering them, as the shock rounds struck the Guardian’s shields. Everyone dove for cover.

            Ray, meanwhile, grabbed a tripmine grenade from his belt and tried to stick it on the Captain, who seemed fixed on him, but the Captain ducked and the grenade went out a window, to explode on the street below. The Fallen swung his blades once, twice, but missed both times as Ray leapt and ducked, trying to reach for his rifle. The Captain backhanded the Hunter into a wall in response and then lunged with his blades, striking Ray square in his chest and pinning him to the wall. The Guardian gasped once and died.

            “Ray!” Michael called in distress as his Ghost informed him of the downed Exo.

            “It’s alright, I’m fine!” Ray’s voice, patchy but there, came over the comms. “The Light’s still pretty strong here! Ghost’ll have me up in five.”

            Ryan drilled a burst straight into a Vandal’s skull, downing him with ether leaking from his shattered faceplate. On the other side of the room, Gavin put another shotgun shell into a Vandal’s head, removing it completely. The Captain tried to remove his shock blade from where it was embedded through Ray’s body and into the wall, to no avail. As Michael and Geoff opened fire on the other Vandals, killing them, Jack found range with his fusion rifle, pouring a full burst of ionized solar energy into the Captain from across the room. His shields flickered and failed, and the streams tore through him, burning him to a pile of cinders.

            The room fell silent just as Ray’s Ghost re-animated him. The Hunter looked around the room. “Well,” he said, “So that happened.”

            “Nice shot, Jack,” Michael said, clapping him on the back.

            “We should get going,” Ryan said. “It’s not like we didn’t make any noise here.”

            “The lift isn’t far,” Geoff agreed, looking out the far-side window. “We’re practically right under the Ketch.”

            The six of them hustled down the stairs to the ground floor, trying to keep quiet as best as possible. After a quick peek by Ray out of the building’s back door, they dashed towards the lift field site, hugging the buildings and trying to stay in the shadows, but doing little else to remain hidden. Ray assured them they had long since moved past any regular patrols by Kelsiks’ crew.

            The Baron’s Ketch was parked directly over a wide courtyard decorated by drained, algae-stained pools and cracked marble sculptures that led up to what appeared to be a ruined legislative building. Fallen cargo pods and field equipment littered the scene, centered around the lift field, a wide platform of alien metal, ringed by finger-like prongs. Atop a hastily-constructed platform, a Captain with a shrapnel launcher – the Fallen equivalent of a shotgun – roared orders at Dregs scuttling about the site, while another wandered the courtyard, barking at the Vandals that guarded its edges.

            “A double crew?” Gavin asked as the Fireteam crouched behind the one, crumbling wall that remained of a building at the courtyard’s edge.

            “Neither of them is a Reaver,” Ray announced, peering through his scope. “But there’s definitely two crews there, working together.”

            “That doesn’t happen very often,” Geoff said.

            “Maybe the Captains are brothers?” Michael suggested.

            “I’m not sure the Fallen have an equivalent for familial bonds,” Ryan said, “But the circumstances would suggest that the relationship between the two crews is more… _cordial_ than the norm.”

            “Are we going to have to fight them, too?” Jack asked.

            Geoff looked over his shoulder at him. “Well, unless you have a plan involving diplomacy…”

            “It’s the House of Devils,” said Michael. “‘Diplomacy’ isn’t a word they know.”

            “I was actually thinking stealth,” Jack said frustratedly, “But since everyone seems bent on sticking our necks out, fine, let’s do this.”

            Ray slowly slid his sniper through a hole in the wall where bricks were missing. “Which one should I take out first?” he asked Geoff. “Captain up top or Captain on bottom?”

            “The one up top,” Geoff replied, “You’ve got a clearer line of sight. But hold on a second – the rest of us can set up a shot too.”

            “Got one,” Gavin said, drawing a bead on a Vandal with his back to them, staring off into the city.

            “I’ve got these guys here,” Michael said, crawling around behind Gavin and leveling at a group of Dregs arguing over a cargo container.

            “Here’s one,” Jack said, taking aim at another Dreg.

            “And this one’s mine,” said Ryan, aiming at a nearby Vandal.

            “On three,” Geoff said, also lining up a shot. “One, two, THREE!”

            Six shots rang out, followed closely by the staccato burst of Michael’s rifle as he gunned down the remainder of the Dregs in the group. The surviving Captain was the first of the Fallen to react, dashing for cover behind a pile of containers and barking orders across the courtyard. Dregs and Vandals scrambled for cover as the advancing Fireteam gunned down stragglers. They had been caught off guard by the surprise attack, and that put them at a disadvantage. A trio of Vandals leapt for the open and fired on Michael and Gavin with shock rifles, but the slow-moving projectiles left enough time for the Hunter to fire off a three-shot response from his hand cannon, killing two and catching the third in the shoulder, before the pair dove for cover. The arc shots struck harmlessly against a Fallen container.

            On the other side, Jack and Ryan dueled with a mixed group of Vandals and Dregs. Two of them fell, bleeding ether from where the high-caliber rounds of Ryan’s rifle had struck them, and a third disappeared in a flash of light and flame, winged by a burst from Jack’s fusion rifle. From behind, Jack heard an electronic buzz creeping up on him, and turned just in time to see a Vandal rear back to swing a pair of shock blades at him, before its head disappeared in a spray of ether.

            “You’re welcome,” came Ray’s voice over the comms. “Where’s Geoff?”

            Geoff and the remaining Captain were hunting each other through the impromptu maze the Fallen cargo formed. The snap of a twig, a gust of wind, the scuff of a boot on bricks turned Geoff’s head first one way and then another, searching for his enemy. He listened for the hissing of ether flowing into the Captain’s mask, the heavy tread of the large, reptilian alien, the flap of its cape in the wind. Suddenly, a scuffle. A cry of triumph and the low, metallic roar of a concentrated flame. Geoff whirled around to face the noise. The Captain was behind him, shrapnel launcher already up to its shoulder, leveled at Geoff, trigger depressed. Flames leapt from the mouth of the weapon, superheating the jagged metal shot the launcher used as ammunition as it traveled down the barrel towards its target. Shrapnel launchers were deadly at close ranges, tearing through shield and armor with impunity.

            The Void pooled in Geoff’s hand naturally. This was something he was practiced with, something he had done a hundred, a thousand times before in the Vault. The Light hardened, crystallized, solidified into an eight-faced bipyramid. As the shrapnel leapt towards him, Geoff’s left hand swung around, charge clutched tightly, and hurled the grenade towards the Captain. The Fallen didn’t have time to react as it struck him square in the chest and burst, breaking his shields even as a plethora of smaller charges flew out of the grenade. The charges exploded as one, enveloping the Captain completely and ionizing him, just as the shrapnel struck its target.

            One of the four rounds went wide, sailing harmlessly over Geoff’s head. One winged his shoulder but only damaged his energy shield, forged of the Light. The last two struck him square in the chest, breaking his shield and tearing into his armor. He fell back against a container, coughing.

            His Ghost appeared in front of him in a small flash of Light. “You alright?” it asked, already beginning to scan the wounds.

            “What does it look like, dipshit?” the Warlock coughed, propping himself up. “How bad is it?”

            “You’ve seen way worse,” Geoff’s Ghost replied. “I just need to dissolve the shrapnel and seal up the holes. It’s deep but not bad, or you’d be dead already, and I wouldn’t be able to help you then.”

            “Not enough Light?” Geoff asked, already feeling the pain in his chest receding.

            “Not here, this close to the Baron,” his Ghost answered. “Funny thing, how the Darkness seems to pool near our strongest enemies.”

            “Funny thing, that,” Geoff agreed.

            Across the courtyard the noise of the battle had ended. Fallen bodies were strewn across the site, but the hum of the lift field and the low rumble of a Skiff in the distance reminded the Fireteam that danger wasn’t far off. It was only a few seconds more before the other Guardians found Geoff.

            “Everything alright, Geoff?” Jack asked, leading the others.

            “Yeah, I’m in one piece,” Geoff responded, standing up as his Ghost disappeared in a wink. “Those shrapnel launchers are a mean business, though.”

            “Yeah they suck major ass,” Michael agreed, kicking the weapon away. “You gotta deal with those suckers quick.”

            “Hey, we’ve got a problem,” Ray said, catching up with the rest of them. “I saw a Dreg go up the lift back when the fight started.”

            “Shit,” Michael cursed, punching a Fallen container in frustration.

            “That means we’re probably going to have company when we get up there,” Ryan stated.

            “Not yet,” Geoff argued. “It’ll take them a bit to mobilize, but we need to get up there now.”

            “What’re we waiting for, then?” Gavin asked, going towards the lift. “Let’s go!”

            The rest of the Fireteam followed him. A short trip later they stood in the Ketch’s belly, quiet save for the lift pad humming gently beneath them.

            “It’s too quiet,” Ryan complained. “I don’t like it.”

            “There’s no such thing,” Geoff said, stepping forward. “C’mon, we have to get moving.”

            The room they stood in was decently sized, definitely not cavernous or large but neither small nor cramped. The lift pad was off to one side, leaving the center of the room open. Fallen containers littered the floor, but for the most part it was empty; the piles of cargo in the courtyard a thousand feet beneath them likely had come from here. There were three doors to the room, one to the lift pad’s right and two on the opposite side, facing each other. Near the apex of the dome-like room were several vents. Geoff walked the short distance to stand in front of a door and then turned abruptly to looks at Gavin.

            “Alright,” he said. “Which way do we go?”

            Gavin blinked once, twice in surprise and then pointed to himself. “Me? Why should I know?”  
            Geoff rolled his eyes and the rest of the Fireteam groaned in unison. “Well, seeing as how you’re our resident Fallen expert,” Geoff said irritably, “One would think you’d know where we’re going.”

 

            “Look, I can just speak the language, I didn’t say I was an architect,” Gavin replied.

            Geoff looked at him blankly for a moment. “So you’re saying we have no way of getting where we want to go with any sort of speed,” he said.

            “I didn’t come here to die, Gavin!” Ray yelled.

            Ryan just shook his head. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew it! I knew this was a stupid idea.”

            “Well now, hold on lads,” Gavin said in a hurt tone. “I didn’t say I was a complete idiot. You just can’t have expected me to memorize the layout of a Ketch.”

            “Are you or are you not of any use to us right now?” Geoff asked, walking back towards the lift pad.

            “I could be if you’d give me a moment,” replied the Hunter. “Now are we on a freighter or a carrier?”

            “What the fuck are you talking about?” Michael asked.

            “There’s two types of Ketches,” Gavin explained, “Freighters and carriers. Freighters were originally meant to carry supplies and carriers were meant to hold soldiers and weapons. Nowadays, of course, the only difference between the two is what they look like inside; they all carry the same stuff.”

            “Now how the hell do you expect us to know that?” Ray asked.

            “Well, we came up through a field lift,” Gavin said pensively, “Does anyone remember if the Ketch looked like it had a beak that was slightly open?”

            “It didn’t,” Jack said. “Just that normal prong thing on the front.”

            “Alright then, it’s a carrier,” Gavin announced. “So this room here isn’t really a cargo hold, it’s just a staging area.”

            He stepped off of the lift pad. “Okay, so this door on the right here should take us upstairs to the bridge and the throne room. The one on the left will take us to the navigation center and the info hub.”

            “Well what about that one back there?” Michael asked, pointing.

            “Cargo holds,” Gavin replied. “Pretty much the opposite of where we’re going.”

            “Okay, let’s go then,” Geoff said. Michael, Jack, and Ryan walked off towards the right door, while Geoff and Gavin dawdled waiting for Ray.

            Michael stepped forward towards the door and was about the press the glowing blue button in its center to open it when suddenly a chorus of chittering cries and howls echoed around the room from the opposite door. Wish a creak, the vents near the top of the room opened, and from each one floated a large machine like an eyeball, each glowing purple.

            “Servitors!” Ryan called, opening fire.

            Before the Fireteam even had time to adjust, though, the other door opened with a _whoosh_ and from it poured dozens of Vandals, each of them with a pair of shock blades clutched tightly in their claws, and each with a bright yellow strip painted down the center of their faceplate.

            “Reavers!” called Jack, flinging a fist-sized orb of solar Light into their midst. It caught on one’s shoulder and exploded, searing armor and flesh, but the Reaver Vandals merely shook it off and kept coming. As the first Servitors reached the floor, they began firing.

            Servitors were an interesting Fallen construction. The Fallen worshipped them like idols, but they served more than a strictly religious purpose. The Servitors converted matter into the precious ether gas that Fallen needed to survive. As a result, the Fallen treated Servitors with an odd mixture of worshipful respect and the indifference with which you’d treat a vending machine. Because their thick metal plating enabled them to withstand large amounts of punishment, and because they could fire an energy mortar from the frontal plate of their eyeball-like construction, Servitors were often deployed as mobile fire support in key locations.

            However, the attribute Servitors possessed that posed the greatest threat to the Fireteam in this case was the aura of energy that each emitted. This aura could extend out from the Servitor to envelop nearby Fallen, increasing their strength and toughness. In the tight spaces of the Ketch, this meant that the Reaver Vandals the Servitors were providing support for were even more deadly.

            Even worse was the fact that the Reaver Vandals’ entry point into the room split the Fireteam in two. Geoff, Gavin, and Ray in the south part of the room were separated from Jack, Michael and Ryan in the north part. The battle quickly turned against the Fireteam; the Vandals used their enhanced toughness to push up close to the Guardians and render gunplay ineffective; Light-infused melee attacks could push them back, but not for long.

            Ryan dove behind Michael as the Titan slammed his fist into an alien face. “Geoff!” he gasped into his comms set, “We need to get out of here!”

            “I’d love to agree with you Ryan!” came the Exo’s exasperated response. “But there’s one small problem with that idea!”

            “There’s no way we’re going to be able to punch through them,” Ryan said back, lobbing void energy into the middle of the Fallen. “Not when we’re separated like this. We need to split up and regroup later!”

            “And _you_ called ME crazy!” Geoff yelled in response.

            “We don’t have a choice!” Ryan argued. “We can run and live or fight and die! Your decision!”

            “Dammit,” Geoff cursed under his breath. Ryan was right. Michael’s fists and Ray’s knives could only hold off the Reavers for so long, especially with the Servitors providing support.

            “Okay, here’s the plan!” he called into an open channel over the noise of the fight. “Ryan, take Jack and Michael through the door to the navigation center! See if you can find the biggest, most important looking computer and lock it down tight! Gavin, you’re going to lead Ray and I around through the cargo holds! We’ll lose the Fallen and meet back up!”

            If there was any dissent from Ryan’s half of the Fireteam he made sure Geoff didn’t hear it. Jack was first through the door Gavin had pointed out, followed by Ryan dragging Michael by the arm. For Geoff’s part, Gavin tried to protest but Geoff just grabbed him around the waist and moved as fast as he could towards the door Gavin said led to the cargo holds. Ray silently brought up the rear, keeping the Vandals at bay with bullets and steel.

            As Ryan rushed through the door and it closed behind him he heard the low _whoosh_ of a flame. He turned to see Jack, hands lit by solar fire, pressing his palms against the door’s seams, welding it shut.

            “Well that’s a good idea if I’ve ever seen one,” Michael commented, reloading his auto rifle.

            “It’s piecemeal at best,” Jack admitted. “We should get going. Those welds won’t hold, especially against Servitors.”

            “Gavin said the navigation center was this way,” Ryan said, gesturing down the hall. “Look for big, obvious doors and rooms. They’re not going to hide an important feature in a broom closet.”

            “The Fallen? I dunno, that seems like something they’d do,” Michael commented. “They kinda have messed up priorities.”

            “You’ve never been on a Ketch before, have you?” Ryan asked skeptically.

            “Oh what, and you have?”

            “Ray once ran an op on the Kell of Winter’s flagship,” Ryan said. “I got to perform his debriefing. They devote a lot of space to big storage holds and throne rooms, but that doesn’t mean they shove vital systems into a corner. Fallen tech looks like trash but they know their stuff.”

            “Guys, we’re short on time here,” Jack said anxiously as the door shuddered behind him under the force of the Servitor’s energy blasts.

            “Let’s move, then,” Ryan commanded.

            On the opposite side of the cargo hold, Geoff and the two Hunters crept through the narrow maintenance tunnels that ran throughout the ship. Gavin had overridden the locking mechanism on the door and bought them enough time to duck into an access hatch before the Reavers and Servitors found them.

            “Obviously the Fallen had no intention of Warlocks crawling through these things,” Geoff grunted, squeezing along the narrow tunnel.

            “I dunno, this is pretty cozy,” Ray said sarcastically, lithely clambering behind him. “I almost wanna take a nap.”

            “How is that different from anywhere else?” Geoff asked exasperatedly. “You could take a nap in the middle of a firefight!”

            “Only because I’m _so good_ that I could shoot in my sleep,” the Hunter bragged. “If I wanted to.”

            “Yeah, but you never want to,” Geoff shot back. “You want to _sleep_.”

            “Gavin, back me up here,” Ray pleaded.

            “Shush,” Gavin said, uncharacteristically intense in leading them through the tunnel.

            “What’s your problem?” Geoff asked, slightly concerned.

            “You asked me to lead you through these tunnels,” Gavin said, “So that’s what I’m doing.”

            “Yeah, but what’s your _problem_?” Geoff asked again. “Why are you so uptight?”

            “Why did you split us up like that?” Gavin asked.

            “You’re butthurt about _that_?” Geoff asked. “I didn’t really have much of a choice, you do realize that, yes?”

            “And you just expect them to find their way through the ship?”

            “Ryan and Jack, yes, and I expect Michael should be able to use enough brainpower to follow them.”

            “But they don’t know a Ketch like I do,” Gavin argued. “I practically _lived_ aboard one at the end of the Reef Wars – in fact I _did_.”

            “Traveler’s Light, Gavin, they’ll be fine!” Geoff said. “They’re closer to the navigation center than we’ve ever been at this point.”

            Gavin muttered something but stopped protesting.

            They crawled through the maintenance shaft for a while longer before it ended at a vent. Pulling a multitool from his boot, Gavin unfastened the vent and lowered it gently to the floor. Beyond was a dimly lit room, its edges obscured in shadow. The only light came from the tunnel they had just come through. Around the room were various amorphous piles of indiscernible makeup. Gavin clambered out and motioned for Geoff and Ray to follow him.

            “Ow,” Geoff said, rubbing his back as he straightened out. “Crawling around in those things is not good for your back.”

            “Geoff, you’re an Exo,” Ray deadpanned. “You don’t get back pain. My source is me, I’m an Exo, and I only feel pain when I want to feel it.”

            “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have that kind of control, Ray,” Geoff said back irritably. “Keep in mind you’re the second-most experienced member of this team.”

            Ray shrugged and looked around. “Where are we?”

            Gavin had removed his helmet. He was scratching his head and looking around. “Well, that’s just it,” he said, confused. “This _should_ be a maintenance hub room, where they keep the spare parts and tools and such.”

            He walked over to a switch on the wall. “But it looks like they’ve converted it into-”

            He flipped the switch.

            “-a treasure chamber.”

            With the lights on, the previously unlit room became flooded with light. All around the Guardians were piles of trunks, human in origin. Some were covered and strapped down with tarp, some were piled, closed, with no cover, but some were open, and in the light their contents shone with the electric-blue glow of Glimmer. In addition to the chests, other treasures were piled around the room: paintings and statues from before the Collapse, looted from art galleries and museums around Kelsiks’ territory. Racks upon racks of archaic weaponry hung on the walls, rifles and handguns from the Golden Age, or maybe even before.

            But the true prizes were towards the back of the room, away from the vent they had entered through and opposite from the door that presumably led back out to the Ketch’s hallways. Hung upon plastic mannequins, looted, perhaps, from a dilapidated clothing store, was Guardian armor. For a moment, the three living Guardians present considered what this meant, that Kelsiks had killed others before them.

            After a moment, however, Gavin approached. “I can’t believe it,” he said, his Ghost appearing in his palm. “This stuff looks pristine.”

            “I heard Kelsiks took trophies,” Geoff said. “But this goes beyond that.”

            “Look at this, Geoff,” said Ray, walking up to a set of what looked like Hunter armor. “These are old. _Very_ old. I’ve seen photographic stills of these in some of the record – Ah!”

            Ray cried out suddenly and pulled away, clutching at the front of his helmet. “What is it, what’s wrong?” Geoff asked in concern.

            “I can’t – that chestpiece!” Ray said, ripping off the Knucklehead Radar, his exotic-class helm. “When I looked at it the screen in this thing went brighter than the sun on Mercury!”

            Gavin held his Ghost up to the armor Ray was looking at. The chestpiece was metallic, unlike most Hunter armor, which was comprised of tightly-woven armorweave cloth. Across the chest was an intricately designed metal plate, filigreed in gold, with a wolf’s head in the center, flanked by wings.

            Gavin’s Ghost scanned the armor briefly and then pulled back, gasping in shock. “I thought this was just a legend!”

            “What?” Gavin asked. “What is it?”

            “This armor has been lost for centuries! Its owner disappeared back during the Dark Age. Kelsiks must have taken it from them!”

            “Or from whoever took it from them,” Geoff said. “What is it?”

            “It’s the Crest of the Alphi Lupi,” Gavin’s Ghost explained. “It’s an incredibly powerful exotic-class armor. According to the Tower Archives, it’s supposed to be some sort of…Light focuser.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ray said, examining the chest armor with his helmet off. He fingered the filigree. “It’s sure pretty-looking.”

            “Golden Age designs are known to be extravagant,” Gavin’s Ghost explained. “But with regards to its effect, Guardian Super attacks are proven to be relatively inefficient. A lot of Light goes to waste, most of the time. The Archives say the Crest was like a collector for the excess Light, focusing it into a form that could be useful, if not to the wearer, than to members of his or her fireteam.”

            The Ghost’s chassis rotated as it scanned the armor again. “Apparently a side effect of this was it allowed the wearer to resurrect other Guardians more quickly from a downed state.”

            “That might be useful in the Crucible,” Ray said, pensively.

            “Or, y’know, in the field,” Geoff said. “I doubt they had an institution that didn’t exist yet in mind when they made it.”

            “Hey, I can take this, right Geoff?” Ray said, transmatting the Knucklehead Radar into his ethereal inventory and summoning an Iron Banner helmet in its place. “Not like it’s doing the Tower much good here.”

            “That…is actually a really good idea, Ray,” Geoff said, sounding surprised. “We should take this stuff if it’s exotic-class. At the very least it would make Ryan happy.”

            Gavin’s Ghost scanned the Guardian armor again, briefly. “Most of this is legendary-tier, unfortunately,” the Ghost stated. “And as Ray noticed, it’s woefully out-of-date. It would hardly be considered rare if it were in production today.”

            It hovered in front of a helmet. The front looked like a black skull, minus the lower jaw, that had three eyes like a Hive-beast. The sockets were empty now, but to Gavin it seemed as if they could light up at any moment, if the right Guardian were wearing it. “This is the only other exotic-tier armor in this collection. Unfortunately…it seems it’s not anywhere in the Tower Archives.”

            “Huh,” Gavin said, reaching for it. “I wonder what it does…”

            Just as he was about to touch it, a bright blue bolt of Arc energy leapt between it and Gavin’s hand. He yelped and jumped back, startled.

            “You okay?” Ray asked as Gavin rubbed his hand.

            “Yeah,” the other Hunter responded. “That hurt!”

            “That discharge of energy was between that helm and your Lucky Raspberry,” Gavin’s Ghost explained, scanning him for damage. “I guess the helmet also serves to amplify your Arc abilities. They probably won’t get along very well if you wear them both at the same time.”

            “Aww,” Gavin whined. “Do I have any other chest armor in my inventory?”

            The Ghost whirred and its chassis spun again. “You have a legendary-tier Dustwalker pattern that Master Cayde gave you. You want to swap it out for the Lucky Raspberry?”

            “Yeah, I’ll give this new helmet a try, see what it does,” Gavin said, removing it from the mannequin and lowering it over his head. He didn’t see it, but Ray and Geoff jerked back as the three eye sockets lit up with electric-blue light.

            “Okay, you’ve both got shiny new-old armor,” Geoff said, drawing his rifle from his back. “Can we move now?”

            “Yeah, let’s go,” Ray said, strapping on the Crest.

            “Okay,” Gavin said. He pressed his hand to a console, opening the room’s door. “If we are where I think we are, we can follow this hallway to the left and meet up with the others right outside the navigational room – hopefully. The good news is, areas in the back of the Ketch like this don’t see a lot of traffic, least of all when they’ve had a security breach.”  
            “Let’s hope the others are having it as easy as we are,” Geoff said.

            “Nah, they’ve got Michael,” said Ray. “They’re fine.”

***

            Ryan was having a bad day. He had woken up this morning looking forward to spending the next few weeks cataloging a haul of Golden Age artifacts Lord Shaxx’s Redjack fireteam had brought in from their latest Crucible reclamation operation. He had even gotten permission from Mistress Ikora to have Undersecretary Turney run the daytime operations of the Archives to he could sequester himself in the analysis room long into the night. Instead of pouring over ancient texts and scanning artifacts, however, he was crouched, uncomfortably, behind a crate in the belly of a Fallen Ketch in the middle of Abaddon, being shot at by Vandals and Servitors while on a fool’s errand that his brash-yet-talented (and charismatic) fireteam leader had decided to drag him into. To his right, Michael roared defiance in time with his rifle, while behind him Jack, wreathed in the flames of his Radiance, lobbed bolts of fire into the midst of the Fallen.

            There was a silver lining, though. They had found the navigational center about where Gavin said it would be. Unfortunately their plan had also depended on Gavin being there to read the Fallen data, and as he was not, the room was more of a dead end than a light at the end of the tunnel. In addition, the Fallen who had chased them from the cargo hold had been joined by what seemed like the entire garrison of the Ketch. Ryan wasn’t surprised. His life seemed full of disappointment lately.

            Michael ducked back into cover as he reloaded, breathing heavily into his microphone. “Well,” he said, “This is an adventure. I hope Gavin and the other guys shows up soon, though. This is becoming a little tedious.”

            This was anything _but_ tedium. Oh, how Ryan longed for tedium. Hours upon hours copying lines from old tomes into digital form, long nights spent analyzing field reports, whole days spent organizing texts according to title, author, subject and date. Fighting the minions of the Darkness was not tedium.

            “Ryan, snap out of it,” Jack chastised, kneeling next to him. His flames were gone now. “You’ve been sitting here for like, ten minutes. Michael’s running out of ammo.”  
            Ryan peeked out at their enemies. There will still two or three Servitors floating around, firing energy blasts inaccurately, but the rest of the Fallen had resorted to blind-firing around crates and containers, subdued by Michael’s fury. One Vandal peeked too far out from behind his cover. In one swift, practiced motion, Ryan stood, leveled his rifle, and fired. The bullets hit their mark, sending the Fallen tumbling to the floor. In response a dozen shock rifles fired back, wildly, and Ryan ducked down again.

            “There you go! See? Not so hard,” Jack said, as close to mockingly as the perpetually paternalistic and caring Guardian could go. Ryan gritted his teeth. He _could_ use his Nova Bomb attack, but the structural damage would be…

            Almost as if the universe itself were responding to Ryan’s thoughts, a massive, roughly ovular wad of void energy suddenly launched itself into the midst of the Fallen, caving in the floor and burning the edges of the crates with neutrino scarring. The Fallen, Vandals and Servitors alike, were instantly atomized, dissolving into flecks of matter and dissipating. The floor in the center of the hallway where the Fallen had been creaked and groaned, parts of it having been melted into slag, so that it bubbled and glowed with a weak purple light.

            Ryan was so shocked that it took him a few moments to see that Geoff, Gavin and Ray had raced up beside them from a side hallway. He rounded on his leader, ready to explode in anger, but was surprised to find that Geoff clasped his arms around him in a hug.

            “Ha ha! Did you see the looks on their faces?” said Geoff, elated. “That’s the best Nova Bomb I’ve thrown since the Vault!”  
            “Dude, you absolutely wrecked them,” Ray agreed, fist-bumping Michael with Gavin. “That’s going to keep them off our backs for a while.”

            “Aw, nice!” Gavin said, noticing the doorway they were standing in front of. “You guys found the navigational center!”

            He opened the door through a nearby console and hurried through. The rest of the Fireteam followed him. Ryan was still going to chew Geoff out later for endangering them all, but for now it was more important to get their objective done and get out.

            The navigational room was large, and centered around a column in the middle with a raised platform, atop of which there was a ring of screens and consoles. Tall banks of alien computers were stacked here and there, with large wires running out of them towards the central column.. Gavin singled out a rather large screen with an accompanying keyboard and began typing furiously and tapping on the screen, looking for the information they wanted.

            “Okay, spread out,” Geoff said. “I’m sure even Kelsiks heard that explosion, wherever he is, and I don’t want to get jumped again. If they do show up, we just need to buy Gavin enough time to find the flight records.”

            “Shouldn’t be long,” Gavin reassured them. He scoffed. “Everything looks like it’s stored here, on-site. They didn’t even put any of this behind a password, let alone encrypt it. Makes my job about ten times easier than I thought it’d be. Guess they weren’t planning on having intruders.”

            A tense minute of silence passed while Gavin clacked and tapped away at the console. The other members of the Fireteam, posted around the room, listened closely for the scrape of claws on metal and the howls of their not-so-generous hosts, but heard nothing.

            With an affirmative beep, a new window appeared onscreen. “I got it!” Gavin exclaimed. “Let me just transfer the data to a mobile disc…”

            Almost immediately after, a loud, grating siren began playing, echoing around the ship. “Well, I think we know now why we didn’t have any company,” said Ryan. “We just haven’t been loud enough.”

            “Okay, we got what we need.,” Geoff said. “Let’s get out of here. Michael, you’re on point. Ray, bring up the rear. Gavin, you’re in the middle with me. Move!”

            With a keypress a small cartridge ejected itself from the console. Gavin pocketed it and vaulted the railing, landing on the balls of his feet and running to join the other Guardians.

            “So where’s the crew with the Gjallarhorn?” Michael asked as they dashed into the hall.

            “Oh, you’re not gonna like this,” Gavin replied. “It turns out-”

            A sudden thundering, animalistic roar interrupted him and stopped the Fireteam in their tracks. It reverberated throughout the hallway, shaking the weakened, sagging floor under their feet.

            “The fuck was that?” Ray asked.

            The answer came in the form of a sudden, fiery explosion that burst through the floor and knocked them off of their feet. Suffering under the abuse, the broken, bent, and melted floor finally gave up and caved in, leaving a roughly circular hole ten feet wide. Through the dust and smoke, four glowing red eyes illuminated a massive head. A huge, clawed hand – one of four – reached up to grab the edge of the hole, followed by another, and then up through the mess came up a giant six-limbed form. It towered above the Guardians, one arm hefting a massive cannon, the end of which glowed almost white-hot. The one across from it carried a large shock blade, which was more broadsword than saber.

            “Oh my,” Jack said in a quiet voice.

            “Hi, Kelsiks,” said Ray.

            With a screech the Fallen Baron lifted up one massive foot. “Move!” called Geoff, and the Fireteam scattered just and Kelsiks slammed his foot into the floor, shaking the entire hallway and sending nearby crates flying with the force.

            “This way!” Gavin said, running down the hallway left out of the navigation room. “This goes back to the cargo hold!”

            As if to add emphasis to his words, a chorus of howls came from the hole, and the clearing smoke revealed at least a dozen more Fallen clambering up after their Baron. The Fireteam very quickly leapt over the wreckage and clutter to follow Gavin. Michael slid under a swing from Kelsiks’ blade and elbowed a Vandal back into the hole, dropping him on top of a couple of his compatriots. As the Guardians got further down the hall away from the Fallen, Kelsiks opened fire with his massive cannon, sending huge blasts of solar energy sailing after them. They exploded against the walls, unsteadying the intended targets, but then the Fireteam rounded a corner and were gone.

            They could hear the Baron thundering after them, but Gavin made sure to lock a few of the doors behind them to slow the Fallen down, shooting the consoles for good measure. Returning to the cargo hold was much quicker than moving away from it with all of the Fallen behind them, and a few minutes later – dodging scattered Fallen groups along the way – Gavin had led them back to where they had entered the Ketch.

            “How are we going to get back through the city to our ships?” Michael asked, his rifle trained on the door they had run through moments before. Nearby, Gavin fiddled with a console, trying to activate the lift field, while the Warlocks caught their breath.

            “It’ll be easier than you think,” Gavin said, flicking a switch. “Ah! There we go. Kelsiks has probably called all of his crews back to the Ketch.”  
            “How in the Traveler’s name is that supposed to make this easier?” Ryan cried in disbelief.

            “Because they’re not going to be looking for six Guardians running through a massive city,” Ray explained. “They’re going to be returning to the Ketch to look for us _here_. Name one time a Guardian – or worse still, a team of Guardians – has run from a chance to kill a Fallen Baron. Especially one as powerful as Kelsiks.”

            “That,” Geoff said, gasping, “Was _not_ a Baron. That was a monster! How is he not the Devils’ Kell?”

            “He’s powerful enough to be,” Jack agreed. “I think the only thing that’s keeping him from seizing power is he’s so far from the Cosmodrome. The Devils’ Lair has, historically, been the seat of power for their Kell.”

            “Lift field’s on,” Gavin said, as the circular floor plate began to glow blue.

            “Alright, let’s get the hell out,” Michael said, as the Fireteam piled on. In a moment, they were standing on the ground beneath the Ketch, at the city’s center. With Skiffs buzzing above them, the Fireteam was forced to duck through buildings to make it back to the ancient suburbs safely, but Ray had been right – with no Fallen crews still scavenging the city to slow them down, they made swift progress. As the sun set, the crew took off in their jumpships, away from Abaddon.

            “So, Gavin,” Geoff said over the intercom, “You never did tell us what the flight records said about Lord Saladin’s Skiff crew.”

            Gavin sighed in response. “Fair warning: you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

            “Sweet Traveler’s Light, what did I do to deserve this…” came Ryan’s whimper in Gavin’s ear.

            “What is it?” Geoff asked, concerned now.

            “Well, I guess Kelsiks has been looking to expand his influence,” Gavin explained, “Because the crew that supposedly has the Gjallarhorn dropped out of contact with Kelsiks’ Ketch about a week ago. They had been sent to establish a new outpost to operate from.”

            “So why is that bad?” Michael asked. “We go to where they were, search this outpost, and go home. Piece of cake.”

            “Because they were supposed to seize this new outpost from another Fallen House,” Gavin said in a defeated tone. “The House of Winter. Kelsiks sent this crew to carve out some new territory for himself – on Venus.”

            Venus. The focusing point for all Vex activity in the solar system. Home to the Vex’s most powerful strongholds, the Citadel and – until recently – the Vault of Glass. Venus was a place none of the Fireteam wanted to go back to anytime soon. The smell of mildew and wet leaves was alone enough to give many of them nightmares. And fighting the Fallen House of Winter for the Gjallarhorn would drop them right in the middle of the war they were waging against the Vex.

            “Oh, _fuck_ ,” said Ray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I got caught up in school work, and then caught up in winter break, and then I fell headlong into the Fallout 4 hype. but I'm back, Alpha-Eta is back, and posts should be more frequent from now on. Huge shout-out and thank-you to madkingray on tumblr, everyone else who had a hand in building and growing the AH Destiny AU, and to all you readers out there!
> 
> They will try to kill you. Kill them back!


	3. Ishtar Sink, Venus

            “Hey guys, I have an idea,” Ray said as the Fireteam’s ships exited their jump just outside of Venus’ atmosphere.

            “What’s that Ray?” Geoff asked, partially to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended since Gavin broke the news about their next destination and partly to distract himself from his own thoughts about the last time they went to Venus.

            The Vault of Glass had been a waking nightmare. Endless hordes of Vex had poured from its depths even before they had broken the lock that held the entrance closed, and once inside it only got worse. The Templar, the Gorgons, the Oracles – one impossible horror after another had come after them in the Vault. Every second they had spent in there had been stretched to an infinity. Geoff had never felt more terrified than in the days they had spent in the Vault, where every moment meant another life-ending threat. He couldn’t imagine what the other, forgotten fireteams had gone through in their failed missions – slowing losing one Guardian, then another, to the power of the Vex. Forgetting their names, then their faces, and then losing memory of them entirely. He shuddered to think that could’ve happened to them.

            “I hear the Moon is lovely this time of year. How about we skip going to the terrifying jungle death planet and instead go to the dry, dusty, and barren rock where the crazy homicidal robots aren’t trying to kill us all the time?”

            Geoff couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even though a very strong and vocal part of him wanted to agree with Ray immediately and bail on the mission. He should’ve seen it coming – Ray out of all of them had the most reason not to want to go back to Venus. But they’d already be facing enough consequences if they returned to the Tower with the Gjallarhorn – running an unsanctioned and undocumented mission, breaking the moratorium the Consensus had placed on operations outside of Earth’s atmosphere since the Vault raid, not to mention going directly against the Speaker’s orders and bringing Ray, who still wasn’t cleared to work in the field again, along with them. If they went home unsuccessful he had no doubt the Consensus would throw the book at them.

            “You know why we can’t do that, Ray,” Ryan chimed in, much to Geoff’s relief. “And I’d much rather be on Venus than in a disciplinary session of the Consensus. They don’t exactly look favorably on Guardians going rogue.”

            Ray mumbled something in dissent but otherwise stopped protesting further. Geoff could feel the Hunter’s discomfort and anxiety even across the space between their two ships. Ray out of all of them had the most reason to never go back to Venus – but the Gjallarhorn’s trail led there, and since they were tracking Fallen, hopefully their quarry had been wise enough to stay far away from any Vex centers of power.

            “Gavin, where exactly did this missing Skiff of ours go?” Jack asked, changing the subject.

            “The Ishtar Sink,” Gavin replied. “Although that almost goes without saying. There’s a cliffside House of Winter base there that they use as a staging ground and waypoint for raiding parties. It’s outside of the Academy, along the coast near the Cinders.”

            “It’s on a cliff?” Michael asked. “How the hell are we supposed to get in? You want us to climb?”

            “I don’t think we’ll have to,” Gavin said. “There’s a sinkhole in the cliffs behind the base with a landing pad. We can land farther in along the plateau and then drop in.”

            “Great, more walking,” Michael complained.

            The Fireteam swept in formation down into the Ishtar Sink, passing the usual insertion point for Guardians on patrol, and flew towards the Cinders. Built into ancient volcanic lava flow, the Cinders were an intricate network of tunnels and warrens dug by the House of Winter that served as their primary base of operations. Passing them, the Fireteam continued down the coast passed a gutted and collapsing business sector that had hallway fallen into the sea, until the cliffs rose beside them. Then they turned inland over the densely-jungled plateau, hoping to avoid detection.

            “So I assume you have a plan, yes, Geoff?” Ryan asked as their jumpships buzzed low over the foliage.

            “Sure,” Geoff responded. “Get in, kill the Fallen, find the Gjallarhorn. I want to spend as little time on Venus as possible.”

            “Amen,” Ray said loudly. “I, for one, endorse this plan.”

            “What if they’re expecting visitors, though?” Jack asked.

            “They probably won’t be,” Gavin replied. “As I understand it, this base is fairly well hidden and not well known. The Devils had just recently found it, and our missing Skiff was a scouting party. I guess the House of Winter didn’t like the idea of cozying up to Kelsiks.”

            “Well, there’s a feeling I can appreciate,” Geoff said, shuddering.

            “Sinkhole’s coming up,” Ray commented.

            “Okay, primary engines off,” ordered Geoff. “Fly silent. We’ll set down about a mile west of the hole and walk.”

            “I’m noticing a pattern here,” Michael said wryly.

            There was a clearing in the jungle where Geoff had indicated they would be landing their ships. “We’re still pretty close to the Cinders,” Jack indicated. “Are you sure we want to just leave the ships in the open like this?”

            “The House of Winter doesn’t have any patrol routes that come close to here,” Gavin replied.

            “And with the dense jungle around, you wouldn’t see the clearing unless you were on top of it,” Ryan added.

            “Are we going to do this or not?” Michael asked. “I can practically smell the damn Gjallarhorn, we’re so close.”

            The walk to the sinkhole was slow but uneventful. Gavin went first, cutting through the dense foliage with his long Bladedancer’s knife. Michael went behind him, followed by Geoff and Jack. Ray and Ryan brought up the rear.

            As they got closer to the sinkhole Ryan noticed something. “Awfully quiet for a Fallen base, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we be hearing more noise?”

            “Aren’t Fallen mostly nocturnal?” Jack asked. “Maybe they’re all asleep.”

            “It depends on the Fallen,” Gavin said back from the front. “I know our Winter are, and most of the Devils.”

            “It’s still too quiet,” Ray said. “So you think they know we’re coming?”

            “Not a chance,” Gavin said back.

            “Not unless Kelsiks let them know we were coming,” Geoff added. “Not that he would.”

            They crept carefully out of the jungle at the sinkhole’s edge and Ray peered over, holding onto Michael for support. “I…don’t see anything.”

            “No movement?” Ryan asked.

            “Nope,” Ray replied.

            “No sleeping Fallen?” asked Jack.

            “Nuh-uh.”

            “Do you see anything that looks like it could be alive, at all?” Geoff asked anxiously.

            “I don’t – wait,” Ray said, leveling his rifle and peering through the scope. “There’s – uh – there’s a leg.”

            “A what?” Michael said.

            “There’s a leg,” Ray said, in a measured tone, as if he himself wasn’t sure of what he was seeing, “I can’t see the rest of the body, but it looks like it disappears around a corner. It’s just…lying there.”

            “Like what, he just fell asleep right on the floor?” Gavin asked.

            “I mean, I’ve done that before,” Ray offered, “But I don’t think it’s standard practice for the Fallen.”

            “It’s a corpse,” Ryan stated.

            “What.”

            “The Fallen are all dead,” he explained. “Think about it. No idling Skiffs, no Captains barking orders, no sounds of anything being moved – this camp is as silent as a grave. Emphasis on ‘grave’.”

            There was a pause. Then Geoff said, “Alright, enough of this waiting around then,” and leapt off the cliff, gliding down towards the landing pad in the sinkhole’s center. Michael was the first one after him with an ecstatic “Finally!”

            The rest of the Fireteam followed suit. Weapons drawn and leveled, they walked slowly forward in formation into the base. To everyone’s surprise but Ryan’s, there were, in fact, dead Fallen bodies lying all around the area.

            From the sinkhole, the base split into three forks. Two ran for a short while on either side around the sinkhole’s edge from where the landing pad met the cliff before leading into short tunnels through the rock. The third went straight into the cliff face, into a short flight of stairs that led down through the rock. On the other side, the southernmost and middle tunnels connected to a large, area of the plateau that was open to the air but sheltered by overhanging rock. The north tunnel led to a large cave, which was connected to the open area by a series of interconnected tunnels.

            All throughout the base, Fallen bodies bearing the sigil of the House of Winter littered the floor, Dregs, Vandals, and Captains alike. There were even some broken Shank chassis. The Fireteam, except for Ray, who wandered off to look around, huddled around the body of a Captain in the open-air area.

            “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting this,” Geoff admitted.

            “To be fair, I don’t think anyone was,” Michael commented.

            “The whole base was killed,” Ryan mused. “Although the lack of Skiffs make me think there might have been survivors.”

            “But why?” Gavin asked, kneeling down and peering at the body closely. “What could have done something like this and why would it do it?”

            “Well, there’s the Gjallarhorn,” Jack said in a sarcastically casual tone. “That might have been it.”

            “So it would’ve been another Fallen crew,” Ryan said. “The Hive don’t operate this far from the Moon and the Vex wouldn’t have a reason to seek Guardian equipment.”

            “Yeah, but there’s no other Fallen bodies anywhere,” Gavin said. “So either this other crew are ghosts, or -”

            “Or they’re also part of the House of Winter,” Geoff deduced, “Which is why all the dead bodies would bear the same sigils.”

            “Would the House of Winter really do that?” Jack asked. “I mean, would one crew attack another crew from the same House?”

            “That almost sounds more like something the Devils would do,” Michael said, “But not Winter.”

            “Yeah but there’s no other explanation,” Geoff replied. “Why else would all the bodies have the same markings?”

            “The other crew could’ve taken their dead with them,” Ryan offered.

            “Yeah, but there’s no way they’d just leave these bodies lying around,” Gavin said, snorting. “The Fallen are all about bravado and shows of power. If it were another crew from a different house, they’d have all these heads up on spears and there’d be banners all around marking their territory.”

            “They’d also still be here, resting on their laurels,” Geoff added. “They’d have no reason to suspect anyone would come after them for a while. The fact that they aren’t still here means that this was not a normal raid. I’m thinking another Winter crew heard about what this one had, snuck up, killed all the Fallen here and took off. Without a Kell, the House has probably been falling to pieces.”

            “Which means we have no way of knowing where the Gjallarhorn is now,” Jack sighed. “The trails goes cold.”

            “Dammit!” Michael cursed, cracking a nearby stalagmite with a punch. “We were so close!”

            “I don’t know,” Ryan said. “Something still doesn’t add up.”

            “Of course it does, Ryan.” Gavin said. “Trust me, I know Fallen. I lived with the House of Wolves for…a while. You’re overthinking this.”

            “Uh, guys?” Ray said, walking up to the impromptu huddle, carrying something. “I think I have something to add that may solve our problem.”

            “What is it, Ray?” Geoff asked.

            “I met a new friend in a corner back there,” Ray replied. “He was hidden pretty well. Not very talkative, kind of lazy, likes to lay around a lot.”

            “Oh, so your kind of guy, then,” Geoff joked.

            Ray snorted, smiling. “Yeah, definitely. He didn’t really tell me anything, but he was holding on to this.”

            He held up what he was holding. It was a sheet of green fabric, of the same material that the Fallen usually made their capes from.

            “He didn’t seem mad when I took it, so I figured I could have it.”

            Ryan was closest to Ray. He took the fabric and looked at it. “Hold on,” he said. “This sigil – it’s that new House we found on the Moon last year.”

            “What, the Exiles?” Gavin said, frowning.

            “You’re kidding me,” Jack said. “There’s no way. The Exiles would never come this far from the Moon.”

            “No that’s definitely the sigil of the House of Exiles,” Geoff said, leaning closer to Ryan. “Looks like it was torn right off someone’s back.”

            “I figure my friend grabbed it as he was going down,” Ray said, shrugging. “Middle of a big battle, guy who killed him probably didn’t notice until later. He was stuck pretty well in a corner, so I imagine whoever they were, they couldn’t find him.”

            “Traveler’s Light,” Gavin said, eyes widening as he looked around them. “I just realized – look closely at the walls.”

            The Fireteam turned around almost in unison and looked. Jack went up to the rock and rubbed a hand along it. “These fissures – they’re not natural,” he said. “They’re arc burns.”

            “Damn, they’re all over the place,” Michael noticed. “This was one hell of a battle.”

            “This was a big crew,” Geoff said, looking around. “This wasn’t just a surprise attack – it was a massacre.”

            “Guess the Exiles didn’t want to take any chances,” Ray said.

            “But that still doesn’t make sense,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “How did the Exiles hear that this crew had the Gjallarhorn? And so quickly! Venus is a long way out of the way for the Exiles.”

            “Yeah, that doesn’t make sense,” Michael agreed. “But it also doesn’t really matter.”

            “Michael’s right,” Gavin said. “We can find out why when we track down the Exiles crew. But we’ve got a lead, and that’s what matters right now.”

            “I’m gonna have to go with Gavin on this one, Ryan.” Geoff said. “Right now we’re behind – Saladin’s information was a month old, at least, and that was three days ago. We need to catch them before something else – Ray? Ray what’s wrong?”

            Ray was shaking his head and holding his hand to his temple. “Nothing, I just – headache. I dunno. It’s pretty bad – I guess I can’t see straight? Is this what that’s like?”

            “Well damn, Ray, sit down or something,” Michael said, his voice laced with concern. “Are you dehydrated?”

            “No, he’s an Exo, Michael,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes. “They don’t get dehydrated.”

            “Wait,” Jack said, frowning. “He’s an Exo. Shouldn’t -”

            “Exos don’t get backaches,” Geoff said, realizing the same thing. “Exos don’t get _headaches_.”

            Static crackled in the air and energy arced along the surface of Michael’s plate armor. All around the fireteam a thick haze filled the air, and through it shone bright beams of light that signaled the twisting and tearing of time and space.

            “ _Fuck_!” Ryan yelled in panic, drawing his weapon. “Vex!”

            “Form a circle!” Geoff roared to his fireteam. “ _Form a goddamn circle_! Here they come!”

            Michael could feel his heart rate shoot through the roof as he leveled his rifle to his shoulder. Around them, the lights and static flashed and snapped once more, more brightly, and then began to fade as bronze hulls and unfeeling red lenses dropped into existence around them.

            Every Guardian with any real amount of field experience had nightmares; it was highly common for the Tower infirmary to treat patients for symptoms ranging from insomnia to hysteria. No one went out into the field and came back the same; Michael vaguely remembered one of Cayde’s close friends imparting that wisdom to him once. There were things out “there,” in the Darkness, that went beyond the capacity of anyone’s psyche to deal with fully, and every Guardian – Hunters, Warlocks, and Titans alike – had something in that Darkness that they feared above all else. Something that they had run into once or more that they just couldn’t defeat, only survive. Maybe it was a particular Cabal legion that just outmaneuvered and outplayed them at every turn; maybe they had spent a few weeks (or, Traveler forbid, _months_ ) in the Warrens of Berlin, unable to sleep, unable to escape, constantly on the run from an endless stream of Fallen as they crawled through tunnels barely large enough the hold a Guardian and their Ghost. Whatever it was, they had only escaped through sheer luck, and it had changed them irrevocably, made them fear something so deeply and primordially that it embodied their worst fears.

            For Alpha-Eta, that nightmare was the Vex. The Vault had destroyed them, all of them, mentally; it had been the worst for Ray, who had been locked inside his own body and forced to hunt other Guardians at the Vex’s behest. No matter what they had done inside the Vault, they all knew, deep down, that they had only survived the Vex’s realm of horrors and slain Atheon because they had been lucky. And now, for the first time in months, that horror was becoming real to them again.

            Ranks of Goblins lurched forward towards the fireteam’s tenuous perimeter like a brass wave; behind them, whip-tailed Hobgoblins and gargantuan Minotaurs charged Line Rifles and Torch Hammers to shower the Guardians with deadly bolts of energy. The Fireteam opened up with their weapons, answering alien bolts of plasma with lead and Light. Goblins fell left and right, with molten holes in their exoskeletons and boiling radiolarian hissing from cracked pods, in time with the harsh staccato of the group’s rifles, while the steady, throaty cracks of Gavin’s revolver felled target after target. The roar and hiss of the battle was punctuated by the sharp snap of Ray’s sniper rifle, which could be heard above all else, as hobgoblins fell, six at a time, cut in half by powerful, unerring rounds. Minotaurs jumped to and fro, blinking in and out of visibility, as the fireteam’s steady stream of fire forced them to find cover, never for a second allowing them time to fire their deadly grenade launcher-like weapons. Soon piles of brassy Goblin frames littered the cave around the fireteam, and they quickly turned their attention to the remaining Vex. Those few Goblins and Hobgoblins who remained were killed, while Minotaurs with intact shields chose instead to flee. The unlucky few who had suffered under Ray’s sharp eye (and Void-aligned rifle) were gunned down without mercy. Soon, the cave was silent again.

            Gavin disdainfully kicked over a partially upright exoskeleton. “Bloody robots. Serves ‘em right.”

            “We’re lucky,” Ryan said, bending down to examine a shattered Minotaur hull. “This was a small force.”

            A stream of quiet whimpering drew the attention of the rest of the fireteam. Ray was not handling himself well. He had curled up against a rock near where the team had made their stand, his arms hugging his knees to his chest.

            “Hey,” Michael said, kneeling down next to his friend. “Hey, Ray, buddy, they’re all dead. It’s okay.”

            “No, no no, no it’s not,” Ray moaned back. “They’ve found me again, don’t you see? They’ve found me, they’ve come back for me, they’re going to take me away again.”

            “No they aren’t, Ray,” Geoff said forcefully. “See? Not a Vex left here. We wouldn’t let them take you away again. Never.”

            “It doesn’t matter, don’t you see?” Ray cried back. “They want me! I can hear it still, in my head. I can hear the things, the plans they had for me. I was a weapon – I was their perfect weapon, a wielder of the Light they could control…” The rest of his words trailed off into sobs and muttering.

            “Hey,” Michael said, grabbing the Hunter by his shoulders and shaking him. “Ray, look at me – look at me! That’s not gonna happen again! We made sure of that. And we’re gonna do to whatever Vex are stupid enough to come chasing you what we did to these assholes here – we’re gonna put holes into them until there’s nothing left!”

            “If I may,” Ryan said, interjecting, “I know I’m not typically one to join in on ‘goodfeels huggy time,’ but they’ve got a point, Ray. Look around you – these are all standard Vex models. There’s not a single one among them with an up-armored frame or more advanced processing. This was a standard sweep-and-clear team; they were expecting Fallen, not a full Fireteam of Guardians. Looks like whatever happened here was recent enough even the Vex had outdated intel. If the Vex had come looking for you, we’d know it.”

            “Yeah, Ryan makes a good point,” Jack added. “Minotaurs only retreat like that when they’re unprepared – and they’re only unprepared when they run into something they weren’t expecting.”

            Ray didn’t seem totally convinced, but he was more so than he had been before. Michael helped him to his feet.

            “If the Vex were here expecting Fallen, then we may be a hell of a lot closer than we thought,” Jack noted.

            “He’s right – these bodies haven’t started to stink yet,” added Gavin. “Well, any more than the Fallen already do. This couldn’t have happened more than a day or two ago.”

            “Ryan, can your Ghost analyze the microfilament on that cloth scrap, give us a ballpark on where we might find them on the Moon?” Geoff asked.

            “That’s a long shot, at best,” the archivist replied. “We know next to nothing about the Exiles. They either operate without a Kell, or he’s more secretive than the Kell of Kings, they’re either crazy or desperate enough or _both_ to rub elbows with the Hive, and now we know they don’t care about attacking the other Houses when the loot is good enough.”

            “Worth a shot still?” Ray said, offering the fragment with an unsteady hand. “It’s the best lead we’ve got.”

            Ryan huffed and grabbed the cloth scrap. “Fine. At least the Moon is closer to the Tower than here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I don't even want to think about how long since I've updated. My apologies to all of you who stuck around waiting.
> 
> To make a long story short, I got bit by the writing bug about two years ago, started putting this piece together. Ended up being more than I bargained for, but I enjoyed it. Then I got over it. Senior year of college - yeesh. 
> 
> And then I graduated. So now that my degree is gathering dust and my home life and work life are separate, my hope is that I can finally finish this damn thing. Problem is, the next chapter is the longest, and there's a lot of heavy lifting I'll have to get through. Bear with me. 
> 
> My goal is to novelize the events of Destiny 2 into Alpha-Eta canon, but that's a long shot.
> 
> So here it is folks, Chapter - oh god, is this really only 3? Oh man, and this was the shortest chapter...


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